The Tale of Adelaide
by lilBlueDragon
Summary: Imagination can be a powerful thing, as poor Adelaide finds out...how's a girl to survive Middle Earth without chocolate? WARNING: Lots of language, lots of sensuality, lots of insanity, and way too much beer for a lass' good. NOT A MARY SUE!
1. A Letter

**THE TALE OF ADELAIDE**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nobody and nothing except Adelaide and her family. To Mr. Tolkien, I doff my cap and hail him as a master who teaches us all to see deeper and understand not through the lessons of a text-book, but the stories. **

**After giving some considerable thought, I decided to edit and rework my **_**Tales of Adelaide**_** and make a few tweaks and corrections. I don't feel that I achieved the right style with the story the first time around. I wanted to deepen my character, expand on the content a little more, and bring the story to a fuller bloom, if that makes any sense. The trouble with implementing yourself into a wonderfully-woven tale, such as the one Mr. Tolkien wrote, is finding an appropriate way to do it so that it doesn't seem completely ridiculous. Trial-by-error is usually the best way to do it—writing and rewriting until it clicks into place. Thank you, all those who have to put up with the new changes; I hope they are somewhat more satisfactory than the last versions. **

Chapter 1

A Letter to a BFF

Dear Eowyn,

So, I went to Wal-Mart yesterday to buy some yogurt, and a piece of jewelry caught my eye and totally reminded me of you. It was a simple horse necklace, small and delicate and silver. It looked like something you would wear, so I bought it and now I wear it everywhere, just to remind myself of our friendship. I'm telling you, we really should have got matching tattoos before I left Middle Earth. Matching horse symbols, maybe on our ankles. That would have been cool. But your brother would have skinned me alive. He really doesn't think women ought to wear tattoos. But he didn't think women ought to ride to war, either, and we both proved to him that we could, can, and did! Well, you did, anyway. I stayed in Minas Tirith and played cheerleader. Now is probably not the best time to confess this to you, but do you remember when I told you I HAD seen a battle? I lied. It was CNN Israeli footage.

I still miss you a lot. Pregnancy is no easy thing, like you said. I wish I had you here so I could cry on your shoulder and bitch and whine about how awful my life is (JK, ). Remember when we used to complain to each other about Wormtongue? We used to have bitch-fests every night. It was fun to gossip like that, as though our life in Rohan was one big soap-opera (which it probably was anyway). We used to throw pretty damn good parties, too, and we were the life of it all. Do you remember when we used duct tape in the Golden Hall to make a maze, and we ran through it (Rohirric Hamsters!)? Weren't we crazy? But back then we were two young women who had no bigger troubles than burnt toast. Then Wormtongue came and rained on our parade—or, rather, he was the cause of many other huge things. He never realized that throwing me out of Rohan would lead to my meeting my future husband, or my journey with the Fellowship, or my involvement with the War. I'll bet he didn't even figure in for the hubbub because he wanted you and hated me.

But then, the whole affair wasn't necessarily his fault. I don't think anyone could have been "blamed" for all the things that happened, unless you count your author. If he "penned" the hole in Middle Earth, he sure as hell didn't WARN anyone about it. They should print warning labels with novels; otherwise, someone would probably sue. Could you imagine some business-suited guy yelling from a pit of Mordor: "MY LAWYER WILL SUE THE IRON PANTS OFF YOU, SAURON!"? I'd pay out my bank account to see that! But seriously, when I look back at the events that even caused our friendship, I wish I'd known about the hole. Hey, Gandalf didn't even know about it, and he was supposed to be super-smart. At the end of all things, he was still scratching his head, but at that point, nobody really cared because everyone was cool with me (except for Denethor, but he had issues anyway, so we don't count him). I'm glad I had the "There And Back Again" experience. I can blame that on Mr. Tolkien.

Do you know, the first time I EVER heard of Middle Earth was when I was eight years old, and on Halloween night we turned on the T.V., and the animated _Hobbit_ was playing? My first introduction to Middle Earth was watching Bilbo Baggins and Gollum face-off with riddles. Gollum looked like a giant frog with abnormally huge eyes and just about made me shit myself, particularly when he yelled, "BAGGINS! THIEF, THIEF! WE HATES IT, WE HATES IT FOREVER!" He was actually the only reason I checked out the book at the school library. Thank God he's not like that in real life, right? But thanks to Gollum I had a little insight into Middle Earth. I never had a chance to thank him properly, but the odds of shaking him by the hand just weren't in my favor.

I finally finished re-reading the Silmarillion and taking notes. If I ever return to Middle Earth, I want to have a comprehensive knowledge of its history, which I sadly lacked the first time around. That's why everyone kept asking me, "Well, how come you didn't know the details about this and that," and I kept telling them, "Seriously, I haven't read EVERYTHING Tolkien's written, and it wasn't as if I was reading his books as a self-help manual for surviving Middle Earth!" But the next time I come, I am bringing his "courses" along so I CAN survive. And then maybe no one will tease me about being the Walking Information Center with a serious lack of Information. Hmph.

Anyway, the baby's kicking today—I went for an ultrasound on Tuesday and discovered I'm going to have a boy. I wish I could tell his father the grand news…he would be so proud! But how will I tell my son about his…well, his weird genes? His ancestry? His people? Career Day at school is NOT going to be easy. I myself hardly know how this is possible. I mean, how does it even happen? I know WHY it happened, but the laws of science can't even explain it, and I live in a world where seeing is believing. Hmph, do you know what would happen if I spilled the beans to the doctor? He'd laugh and say, "No, seriously, who's the father?" I mean, you met my husband. When I first told you about him, even you laughed and said, "No, seriously, who is courting you?"

I think I will have some of that yogurt now. I've developed intense cravings for Mexican food, vanilla yogurt, and red velvet cake, all of which I can't get enough of. I've been eating guacamole and chicken until it comes out of my ears. The baby will probably arrive into the world speaking Spanish.

Did I tell you I have two jobs now? I am working two full-time jobs up here in Alaska, as a hostess and a janitor. I know-not very glamorous. But it pays the bills. Independence is a lot different than I expected it to be, so no, I don't have that corgi yet, and traveling? Forget about it. I'm struggling just to pay utilities in the winter. But at least I'm surrounded by the mountains and the fresh air and I'm someplace that I love and care about. And I have my friends to hang out with. Jennifer couldn't believe it when she saw my condition. She started crying and then she said, "Let's go stand outside the abortion clinic, parade your beautiful baby bump, and throw garbage at the clinic!" So you see, I'm still getting into trouble. My world is as I left it. If you ever come to visit (which is probably impossible) we'll go shopping at the 5th Avenue Mall and I will send you back to Rohan with a ton of new clothes, and you can model for the rest of the ladies. Maybe you'll start a fashion trend!

Anyway, I'm blabbing. I know that for you to write back is impossible, and I know that the chances of you even getting this letter are close to nil because of the time differences between the Primary World and the Secondary. But I can always hope. Even if you don't receive these letters, I will have felt better about sending them. Perhaps they will find their way into human or Elf hands which will take care of them for me. I've always thought it would be really interesting to send out a message in a bottle, like Edgar Rice Burrough's hero from _The Land that Time Forgot_. As the story goes, the hero is captured aboard a German submarine during World War I, and the submarine somehow goes into a Secondary World, back into time, in a land of dinosaurs and cavemen. When the submarine abandons the hero, he keeps journeying across the land, which takes him forward into the Ice Age. But he records his tale and casts it off in a bottle in hopes that someone may read it. I feel like that hero now, the man who puts his tale in a bottle and throws it into a vast sea of hopes and dreams. These letters may not be found by anyone, and the memory of an American will fade away forever from all minds—but that's probably the way it should be. Tolkien might cringe if I stuck around for good. Besides, unlike the prehistoric land, Middle Earth is not a place where I am forever abandoned. The Primary World always comes first; the Secondary is like a vacation site. I can visit whenever I like—not as an escape from reality (I swear I'm not quoting the Bohemian Rhapsody), but as a place to find reality again—if that makes any sense. After all, I think it was Chesterton who wrote of fantasy that "the rivers run with wine to make us remember that they are supposed to run with water."

I love you tons. Take care of yourself, and give Faramir and the kids a hug from me.

-Your Devoted Friend,

Adelaide

P.S.—This is probably not the best time to mention this, either, but I think I left one of my Women's Health magazines in Edoras. If they haven't placed it in some kind of museum yet, could you please keep hold of it for me until I can come back? I don't know what Middle Earth would do if a bunch of orcs got hold of recipes for lime tequila. There could be a War over the One Tequila to Rule Them All, if you know what I mean…


	2. Lord of the Navigationally Challenged

Chapter 2

Lord of the Navigationally-Challenged

The whole mess started when—contrary to popular opinion—Adelaide Edessa received a phone call from her mother, who wanted her daughter to stop by Wal-Mart and get some Doritos.

"Why, did Ben take the last bag on his Eagle-Scout hike?" Adelaide asked.

"No, your sister took them for her Little Flowers Club meeting."

"I told her to take the 'Hint of Lime Tostitos'!" Adelaide was scandalized. "Why can't she keep her little paws off my chips?"

"They're not your chips, and your sister doesn't even like the 'Hint of Lime.' None of us do except you, so I don't know why you're yelling. Is there a problem?"

Adelaide had long ago decided that the reason her mother hadn't become a nun was because God figured the woman would be better off commanding the household of an Air Force pilot. Mrs. Helen Edessa demanded strict obedience from her children, a firm trait she'd inherited from her own father, who was the son of a Polish immigrant. Adelaide had grown up knowing her grandfather—a man who was regular in his habits, commanded attention, and definitely made you feel guilty inside even if you hadn't done anything wrong. He came from a hardworking family who believed in rigorous work ethics, solid education, and grounded Catholic faith in God. His middle child, Helen, inherited his traits and then married a very mild-mannered fellow who'd thought she looked "cute" in overalls (but Adelaide thought that "cute" was the only way to describe her mother; despite her name, Helen Edessa did NOT have "the face that launched a thousand ships").

Adelaide was the firstborn, and the "guinea-pig" of the family—the "tried and tested" child that proved to be the cheerful, obedient one. Her blood flowed with the European peasant traditions of hardy work, tight-knit family bonds, unshakable faith and prayer, and stubborn bullheadedness in just about every aspect of life, particularly independence. From her grandfather she had inherited a fierce temper and a loud mouth, although her grandmother had given her a stubborn, loyal heart and a bit of OCD…Adelaide had to have things clean, neat, and organized, or else the world just didn't work. She was quite used to the flexible, "be prepared" style of the military life, since most of the men in her family tree had served in the army, navy, and air force. She was open-minded and practical, and could stand on her own two feet any day of the week. But she was devoted (if a little grudgingly, sometimes) to her family life. She had a younger brother who loved to hunt and an even younger sister who was so boy-crazy she would probably be the first one to cause scandal to the family name. Adelaide also had seven siblings who had been miscarried—and she didn't doubt for a minute that they were in heaven. She thought of them often and wondered what a bigger family might be like—but then, two siblings seemed enough, particularly since one of them stole Dorito chips without asking her big sister, thereby violating the Laws of Sibling Hierarchy. But there was no use in getting upset over it. Mothers never recognized Sibling Hierarchy anyway.

"I'm not yelling and there's not a problem. But I DID buy those chips with my own money, so technically she DID steal them. Tell Betsy to ask me first before she goes waltzing off with my stuff."

"That's my sweet little girl!"

"Good Lord, mum," Adelaide turned bright red. Mothers never stopped looking at you as though you were an adorable infant, even if you were the naughtiest thing on the planet. What had Conan Coyle wrote once…"Pitiful indeed is the man who has not one woman to weep over him." Well, even more pitiful was the man who never knew his mother. Even Adelaide grudgingly had to admit that apron-strings—though unwanted sometimes—were always there when most needed.

"How's the research coming?"

"You called me in the middle of the library, so everyone is staring at me." Adelaide said goodbye and put her phone away. The librarian, and Adelaide's former employer, Mr. Brent, chuckled.

"You should have stayed in Italy."

"That's the problem with vacations. They never last, and sooner or later you have to plod back to the normal routine."

"Alaska has no normal routine," Mr. Brent remarked. "Not in the summer, anyway."

That was true enough. It was mid-June in the northernmost state of the USA, and each day held new surprises. For those who lived in the south-central part, close to the city of Anchorage and the military bases of Elmendorf and Ft. Richardson, the mountains offered hiking trails that wandered up through the blooming foliage and above the tree-line where alpine moss grew fast to the rocks and tiny violets, eggs-n'-butter, and forget-me-nots grew in colorful bunches along the way. Moose patrolled the sides of the road with their adorable baby calves, and grizzly bears ambled complacently across the highways, heedless of the traffic that piled up or the cameras that flashed. Beluga whales, humpbacks, and thousands of puffins flooded the fjords and inlets where kayakers dipped their paddles and tour ships cruised. Fishing boats brought in halibut, flounder, and orange rockfish. Thousands of campers lined up in Denali State Park where Mt. McKinley herself glittered in a white blanket of snow, fields of fireweed and wild flowers growing around her feet. The sun came up at four in the morning and went down a little after twelve at night. Both sunrise and sunset painted the sky with colors that dyed the mountains purple and the streets golden. Even the city lights in the dark hours could not blot out the stars that shimmered like a billion diamonds in the night sky. People stayed up late to play and party.

Adelaide Edessa was proud to call Alaska her home.

If given a choice, she would have lived nowhere else. Her family had been in the military until her father's retirement after twenty-one years in the Air Force, so Adelaide had known life in Oklahoma, Virginia, Nebraska, Montana, and Maine. She had traveled to Europe for choir tours and college academics as well. She had friends and relatives all over the United States and went to college in New Hampshire. Traveling was not a new thing for her. She had made home wherever she was with her family, whether in an apartment, a military facility, or a civilian house down the block. She was a flexible young woman, able to "adapt, improvise, and overcome." But she had spent eight years in Alaska, and it suited her quite nicely, thank you very much.

"How was Italy, by the way?" Mr. Brent asked.

"Beautiful. Very…European," Adelaide couldn't think of a better adjective. "Everything is ancient and old and charming and the people are so pleasant. And the art! My class visited Florence, and we got to see Michelangelo's David. It was incredible. And we were in Rome for a whole week, staying at the Benedictine monastery, which was even cooler. The weather was awful, though. Too hot for my taste. We went to the beach on a Saturday and I came back with a sunburn that made boiled lobsters look pale. Then we got stuck in Spoleto because of a miscalculation of train times, and it was freezing cold and we had to sleep on the ground underneath a charity-bazaar tent. Our class has never before got so close," she chuckled. "But the adventure was totally worth it. I spent my money on rosaries, Florentine silk scarves and art supplies and leather purses, Orvietto wine, pottery, and a handmade tapestry from Assisi. My family has enough Italian wine and chocolate for the rest of the year! And we'd play soccer and dance in the piazza at Norcia after eating pizza and drinking beer and having snacks, and we'd have siestas every day. And there were fields of red poppies underneath the shadow of the rolling hills…it was breathtaking. And Charles got chased around by the chickens and geese in the back of the convent where we were staying." She chuckled again. "And when my philosophy teacher decided to stand up and dance on a table to _Poker Face_, I got it all on video."

"I'm envious. You have all the fun." Mr. Brent finished scanning the books. "I'd better get you some sacks for these. What the hell is all this for anyway?" He picked up a book. "_Hop on Pop_?"

"It's for my thesis. I'm going to be a senior this year," Adelaide said proudly. "It's my last year of college, Mr. Brent! Congratulate me. After I graduate I am going to get myself a welsh corgi and a car and travel around and write for traveling magazines. I'll sell my polymer-clay collection and all my furniture, and when I run out of money I'll work as an airline stewardess so I can keep traveling. And maybe I'll meet up with a handsome marine or naval officer who can support me and at least five kids and we'll live in Virgina by the beach."

"Well, you've got everything planned, don't you?"

"Not planned, but that's the general idea."

"Here's to you." Mr. Brent raised his coffee mug. "What are you writing your thesis on?"

"Children's Literature."

"What for?"

"I don't know…could be a catharsis for me. I know there's a reason why I'm still entertained by Dr. Seuss, but I want to figure it out so that I can have an explanation for buying heaps of children's and young adult literature from Barnes and Noble." Adelaide picked up a _Redwall_ novel and flipped through it. "There's something about talking animals that I still love."

"You ought to read what G.K Chesterton has put out about books for children. Or C.S. Lewis. Both wrote very good articles about issues concerning children's literature, Mr. Lewis especially. He argues that there is no such thing as 'children's literature.'"

"Why was that?"

"Oh, because usually the same thing that enthralls children enthralls adults, too," winked Mr. Brent. "I still read _The Berenstein Bears_ books, and feel absolutely no shame."

"Neither do I," Adelaide said. _There_, she thought triumphantly. _Someone else likes to sit in the Kid's Corner at the library, and he's older than I am by at least thirty years_.

Mr. Brent finished packing up the books. He smiled at his former employee. "I wish you were working for me this summer. You're a hard little worker. But I know you'll turn out a proper thesis like the rest of 'em in your class. Got any other plans this summer?"

"Lots!" Adelaide said with a grin. For all the "normal routine" of being back home again, Adelaide loved planning events and parties. She was a good hostess and knew how to have a lot of fun. "I want to hike Kesugi Ridge, and my dad promised to take me halibut fishing. And I have a kayaking trip planned with my BFF Jennifer. We're going down to Seward. She's determined to get some good shots for the photography contest at the State Fair this year, and I just want to get as close as I can to the sea-otters so I can pet one. It's probably illegal, but who's checking?"

"Not me. I'll pretend I didn't hear anything."

Adelaide lived with her parents in a rental home in a secluded neighborhood back amid the forests of the Chugach Mountains in the vicinity of Eagle River, ten miles north of Anchorage. There was only one road leading from the neighborhood into town, and it stretched all the way from the intersection by the local church of St. Andrew's to the Eagle River Nature Center. Adelaide had to drive twenty minutes into town and another thirty to get into Anchorage. Gas was currently very expensive, so any trip outside the home had to be worth the expense. Adelaide left the library and headed to her favorite coffee-shop for dinner and a quiet corner to study. She would pick up the chips after she did her research.

In between bites of a salmon-soup bread-bowl, she looked over the list of books that her tutor had recommended. Well, there was _Tree and Leaf_, by J.R.R Tolkien, his important essay on fairyland. And here were the two essays written by G.K. Chesterton and C.S. Lewis. And here was Plato's _Republic_, detailing the proper education for children, and Aristotle's _Politics_. A couple books by Beatrix Potter, a couple from J.K. Rowling…and _Through the Eyes of a Child_, a comprehensive textbook all about children's literature. Adelaide flipped through one book and then another, scanning for something inspirational. Nothing popped out at her, and she felt tired. She checked her watch. Good heavens, it was after eleven o'clock, and the sun was rapidly beginning to set. And she still had to get those Doritos! Adelaide stowed away her laptop, picked up her backpack, and headed out to her car.

The sun had set completely by the time she was out of Wal-Mart, and she scurried away down Eagle River Road. It was a six-mile drive back to her house, and the darkness was unsettling—you never knew what was going to cross in front of you without warning. Too many accidents with bears and moose had left countless drivers in the hospital or city morgue. Adelaide turned on her bright lights and drove as cautiously as she could, listening to a blaring rendition of "Dancing Queen."

_Friday night and the lights are low_

_Looking out for a place to go_

_There they play the right music_

_Getting in the swing_

_You've come to look for a king!_

_Anybody could be that guy—_

_The night is young and the music's high_

_There they play the right music_

_Everything's fine_

_You're in the mood for a dance_

_And when you get the chance_

_You are the dancing queen!_

_Young and sweet; only seventeen!_

_Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine!_

_You can dance, you can try_

_Having the time of your life._

_See that girl; watch that scene_

_Diggin' the dancing queen!_

And then she was only seventeen again, although seventeen was an age she would never have gone back to. At seventeen she was pretty much the same as she had been at sixteen, except that she had defied her mother on her birthday and gone out to buy her first pair of—gasp—tight jeans that showed her navel. There had been a screaming match in the middle of the JCPenny's dressing room that day, but Adelaide got her way. Still, seventeen had seemed no different than sixteen, and eighteen no different than seventeen. She had graduated high school and immediately went to work as a lifeguard at Ft. Richardson, taking a year to learn the ins and outs of a worldly income. There had been a brief period of religious fervor in which she was SURE that God was calling her to be a Carmelite nun, and then she skipped off the college and immediately decided that the monastic life was not for her. College years were her golden years of learning fashion, world views and politics, art concepts and mind-broadening philosophies. Life was in the palm of her hand and she could do anything she wanted with it. She had such a love for new experiences and an unquenchable eagerness to discover life around her as if waking up for the first time. At twenty-three she was on the brink of exciting changes in her life, and she felt satisfied with herself. _I haven't turned out bad_, she thought.

Her mind wandered back even further to the days before the age of seventeen, when she and her cousin had dressed like fairies (or the Pink Power-Ranger, since that used to be all the rage!) and raced around the farm waving "magic wands" and turning rocks into kittens. The fairy palace, otherwise known as the barn, was always overflowing with kittens. Adelaide recalled begging and pleading for one of her own, but her mother was allergic, so she ended up with a goldfish. She eventually upgraded to a pair of gerbils, but she never got her kitten—or a puppy, for that matter. She sighed again. Well, once she graduated, she was taking all her savings and purchasing a puppy. She would name him Socrates and he could travel with her and they would go see the world together. And when she retired or got married or whatever, he would come live with her by the sea in Virgina. She thought of her first view of the ocean at the military post, and how she had sat on a rock—only nine years old—and tried to pry open an oyster to look for a pearl. How she had wanted to find a pearl!

"But I never did," she said, chuckling to herself. "I did get stung by a jellyfish, though."

And that was when her tire popped.

She did not hear it at first. The car just started moving funny, and Adelaide pulled over to have a look. As she got out of the car, flashlight in hand, it occurred to her that the road looked a little funny—it was thinner, and there were no lines of painted white or yellow. In fact, the entire road was not paved anymore. It looked like a dirt road, and Adelaide knew very well that there were no dirt roads around Eagle River Road. She thought she might have taken a wrong turn by accident, and pulled into someone's driveway, but the night was very clear, and, shining her flashlight around, she could see nothing but the winding stretch of dirt road before and behind her, and forests on either side. No houses. No mailboxes. That was certainly unusual! And hadn't she been watching the road the whole time? Adelaide sighed and bent down to check her tire. The flashlight beam shone against something sharp and metallic sticking out from the thick rubber. Walking a few paces from where she had stopped, Adelaide searched around and found the shards of what appeared to be a sword, lying on the ground.

"The Smithsonian forgot Beowulf's gear," she chuckled nervously. She fumbled in her pocket for her cell-phone and tried to call home. There was nothing but static, and a long stream of unladylike vocabulary followed.

There was nothing else to do but set up camp and wait until morning. Adelaide had her emergency kit in the trunk of the car, so she wrapped herself in a blanket, locked all the doors, and munched thoughtfully on a candy bar. The most horrible thing, she reckoned, that could possibly happen now was if aliens landed and spirited her away to Mars. That might not have been so bad. Mars always seemed to be in need of women, and at least she might be able to contact NASA. Nevertheless, despite her attempts to joke about the situation, Adelaide could not sleep. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but she did not like being alone at night in the middle of nowhere—wherever that was at the moment!

When morning finally rolled around, Adelaide's eyes were bloodshot, and she had a massive headache. The first thing she did was to try her cell phone again, but this time she didn't even get static—the phone was dead. Another good look around her ground didn't help either. There was no sign of a highway, nor any paths through the forest. She was stuck somewhere—God only knew—and she had no reception to get in touch with civilization.

Well, this WAS a sticky situation!

She didn't know whether to stay with the car and wait for the Park Ranger or to get out and walk. And for the first few hours, she DID stay with the car, sometimes even exploring about here and there, but never far from her vehicle. She had no lasting rations with her except the bag of Doritos—a bag which she did not want to delve into just in case she was actually dreaming and she woke up to discover all the chips gone and a smear of cheesy nacho flavoring across her lips; mother would not be pleased. But she was pretty sure she wasn't dreaming. And finally, at last, she decided to have a peek around the woods to see if perhaps there was a trail she could follow back to the nearest National Park Service Station.

The forest did not feel like an Alaskan forest. Adelaide was used to crisp, open air and the majestic, snow-covered mountains that peeked just over the tips of the pine and cottonwoods. This forest had close, confined air that felt warm and quick, as though you were in a smallish elevator with twelve businessmen. And yet the tall, thick trees were well-spaced; the ground was covered with spongy grasses and wildflowers; and birds sang freely from branch to branch. The trees were so tall that they blotted out any glimpse to the world beyond. Adelaide felt uncomfortable. Something was not quite right. Her amazing sixth American sense—the one that detects intrusion into the "private individual bubble"—was immediately on alert. There was a hostile presence about! Adelaide wished she had her brother's .22 shotgun. Despite the fact that she couldn't hit a target to save her life, just having something lethal in her hand would have made her feel a little more comfortable. She listened very carefully. Nothing moved. Minutes passed. When nothing happened, Adelaide slowly let her guard down.

"I might have known," she muttered. "There's no one here."

She took a deep breath and swung her backpack up again, and began hiking. She had not gone more than twenty paces, however, when something whizzed past her ear and landed in a tree.

"Aaaaarrrgggggggghhhh!"

Adelaide lost her footing and fell down, banging her head on a root. For a moment, she sat there, staring at the arrow lodged in the tree above her head.

"Boy Scouts," she grumbled. "And I'm target practice. Y'all go home and shoot your fucking cats!" she yelled.

For a moment, all was still. Then thirteen strange-looking men came out from the trees.

Adelaide stared. They looked like Robin Hood's merry men. Their long blonde hair was pulled behind their heads, and their smooth, youthful faces were clean-shaven. Though many of them were quite handsome and noble-looking, Adelaide could see that they stared at her with grim, hard eyes, and they carried bows and arrows of which at least twelve were pointed in her general direction. Adelaide wrinkled her brow in confusion. How neat and clean they seemed, and so…so…she couldn't put her finger on it, but they were so stoically poised and stern of bearing that she felt too aware of her common clothes, disheveled hair, and—she was slouching. She lowered her eyes and brushed at a loose piece of hair, feeling awkward.

One of the men stepped forward and said something in a strange language. Adelaide blinked. Illegal immigrants! She shook her head.

"Uh…_No hablo Español…?" _She shrugged and tried in English. "I don't know what you're saying. Can you understand me?"

One of the golden-boys stepped forward. Adelaide could tell he was the leader; his face was strong and noble, and he had an aura of authority. He had a nose like a hawk's, and beautiful, full lips. But he gave Adelaide a cold look, and his words weren't nice at all.

"I understand _you_ well enough. Who are you?"

Adelaide stared at him.

"I don't give out my name to strangers," she said. "You must think all the marbles rolled out of my ears. That's kind of a weird question to be asking."

"You're in our territory," said another man flatly. "We have a right to ask you your name."

"If you guys are Park Rangers, I'm Bob the Tomato," Adelaide responded. "Look, do you know where I can find the nearest highway? I'm navigationally-challenged, my GPS is not getting any signal, and I'm lost. I don't even have a map. Could you please point me in the right direction?"

"Your name," the official-looking guy replied with increased impatience. Adelaide stared at him and planted her feet firmly.

"My name is _none_ of your fucking business."

The men exchanged looks. Clearly this young woman was going to be difficult.

"Where are you from?"

Adelaide's eyes narrowed, but she thought no harm of this question. "I—I'm from Eagle River. I was just coming back from Wal-Mart. But somehow I've gotten lost. Can you direct me?"

"Eagle River?" the leader frowned. "That is unknown to me. In which realm of men do you hail from? Surely you cannot have walked on foot all the way from Rohan or Gondor!"

Adelaide cocked an eyebrow. "I'm…er, Eagle River is a town in Alaska, you guys. Ten miles north of Anchorage."

"Alaska?" one of the men said. "Where is that?"

Adelaide threw caution to the winds. "Dear sweet mother of Moses. 'Where's Alaska.' That's the dumbest question to date. We're IN Alaska. Did you guys forget that, or something? Now please direct me to the nearest highway!"

"The maid has gone mad, Haldir," said one of the men. "Surely there is no truth in what she says!"

"Okay, then, if we're not in Alaska, would you mind telling me where we're at?" Adelaide's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You think you know your geography better than me; take a stab at it."

"You are in the realm of the Lady of the Golden Wood," said Haldir. "These are the forests of Lothlorien, and you are trespassing here."

Adelaide stared at him. "Come again?"

"You see!" cried one of the men. "She knows not of our home! Surely she is mad, Haldir! For what person, be they mortal or no, could not know of the realm of fair Lorien, sung of old in songs and spun in tales by the fireside?"

"Okay," Adelaide put a hand to her head and closed her eyes, as if concentrating hard. "I think I see a lack of communication between our parties. Listen closely now: can you tell me exactly _who_ you are, _where_ I am, and _what_ is going on? Seriously, joke's over. I'm not in a mood. I have issues. I have a headache. I'm really, really hungry. I also have to use the loo. And I would really, really like to get back on Eagle River Road again, if you could please direct me. Thanks."

They all stared at her in amazement. Finally, one man stepped forward. He had a kind face, and nudged Haldir aside.

"Maid, I am Lindir," he said. "With me are others from the wood of Lothlorien, where the Lady Galadriel lives. We know naught of…whatever you called your home—"

"Alaska."

"Alaska, then. It is foreign to us, and we know naught of it, but we shall try and make you happy here in Lothlorien as best we may, until you should see fit to travel again. Please, come with us, and we shall take you to where you may take refreshment and rest."

Adelaide backed up warily. "I'm not a greenie. Just tell me where the road or the nearest highway is, and I'll find my own way."

"Maiden, I don't know what it is you speak of," Lindir pleaded. "What is a highway? And what do you mean by all your strange phrases? You are in Middle Earth, in our forest of Lothlorien. Where in Middle Earth do you live?"

"Look, I don't want to play your game," Adelaide was getting frustrated. "Middle Earth doesn't exist. It was made up by an English professor of Anglo-Saxon. I haven't got time to socialize with a bunch of Tolkien nerds. So buzz off and find someone else to play with."

There was some murmuring among the men.

"Something has turned her head."

"Poor child! Not to know her home!"

"She has come far, that is certain."

"But from where? She is foreign."

"Such language!"

"We have never seen you before," Haldir said. "We know not from where you come, or if you speak the truth. You wear very strange clothing, and speak with words that are foreign to us. Have you no gown?"

Land sakes! Did they honestly have to converse like that in front of her and ask her such personal questions when they really didn't know her from hoo-hah? Adelaide looked down at herself. She was wearing a Boston Red Sox fan T-shirt and jean shorts. "What's wrong with what I've got on? I'm covering all the goods, aren't I? Don't tell me you're one of those prudish people who's been sheltered half a centur—HOLD ON ONE DARN MINUTE!"

The man had turned for a moment, and Adelaide had caught a glimpse of his ears.

"YOUR EARS! YOUR FUCKING _EARS_! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH THEM? HOLY SHIT… THEY'RE _POINTED_!"

"Well, what of it?" asked the man. "Is it unusual for Elves to have pointed ears?"

Adelaide stared at him, aghast. They all stared back at her. Clearly, each party thought the other completely insane by now, although Adelaide was beginning to wonder whether or not SHE was the fruitcake of the whole situation. She pinched herself hard, and blinked. Pointed ears they were, and indeed, it seemed only logical that they could call themselves Elves. She had never known a Vulcan before, ha, ha. But then, neither had she known any Eves. Something had to give.

"Okay," she said, trying to be calm. "Look. I KNOW that being sleepy does something to your head, but this is stupid. Elves don't exist. They're fictional characters who go around sniffing flowers and fraternizing with the fairies. So please don't kid with me anymore. Seriously, I don't know what you want—if you want my money, you can have it; if you want to rape me…I'd prefer it if you didn't. But please don't mess with my mind. That's just not right."

"I can see you've had a shock," said Lindir gently. "We may arrange to take you someplace, if that is agreeable to you."

"No! It's _not_ agreeable! I want the damn highway! Look, all I want is to go home!"

"Hush, hush! We shall take you home, maid, as soon as you tell us where you live! Now, come…do you hail from the mark of Rohan or the land of Gondor?"

Adelaide stared at him.

"What we have here," she said slowly. "Is a failure to communicate." She looked around the circle of Elves—yes, they were Elves—and looked for at least some bit of sympathy and understanding, but received none. Anger flared up inside her. How dare they mess with her mind, how dare they? Who the fuck did they think they were, standing there threatening her with their little archery sets and yet telling her that if she followed them, she would be safe? Who were they trying to kid, anyway? Did they honestly think she was as dumb as all that? Honestly, they were behaving like a bunch of nerdy schoolboys—and Adelaide was in no mood to play games.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, or what your intentions may be, but I know one thing; you guys are crazy. You're spouting off a load of literary bullshit in front of my face and you think it's so goddamn funny, is that it? You won't think it's so funny when I tell the local Park Service that a bunch of insane illegal immigrants are camping out in their forests, dressed like Robin Hood and probably smoking all kinds of weed. They'll throw you into the slammer so fast you'll think you were in a time warp! We'll see if you laugh any harder behind bars, you dirty bastards!"

She had overstepped. As Adelaide turned around and marched away back in the direction of her car, the Elves pounced. Her arm was twisted violently behind her back, and she was caught around the waist by a long slender arm. She felt a blade pressed to her throat, and slowly she was forced to her knees. It all happened so suddenly that Adelaide was caught desperately off her guard, and had no time to cry out. The leader of the elves—Haldir—stood in front of her with folded his arms across his chest. He glared at her coldly.

"If you were less violent in your tongue," he snapped. "We should have been less violent in our actions. You have profaned our ground! Nothing is to prevent us from assuming you might be, perhaps, a deceit of the Enemy! Come! Who are you? Where are you from? The truth, now!"

"ADELAIDE, ADELAIDE; MY NAME IS ADELAIDE!" She had never been in such a frightening situation before, and thought she was about to be raped. "I SWEAR TO GOD, I WAS ON MY WAY HOME FROM WAL-MART AND—BUT THIS IS NOT ALASKA, AND I DON'T KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU ARE OR WHERE THE HELL I AM! PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME GO! OH GOD, I SWEAR I'LL NEVER COME BACK HERE AGAIN! OH SWEET JESUS, YOU GUYS, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Adelaide only used the name of the Lord in vain when she was extremely terrified or overwhelmingly angry; otherwise, she did not like to offend the Lord because it just wasn't polite or respectful at all. She was scared out of her wits now, terrified that this was it; she was going to be raped, stabbed, and dumped in a river, or perhaps carved into pieces, tossed in a plastic bag, and buried somewhere in the forest.

"It is quite useless that you should make such promises, for now we see that you are naught but a common, mindless, little mortal vagabond," said Haldir coldly. "You have wandered in unaided, you say, and thoughtlessly! We must make certain such a thing happens not again. Now please, come with us, and do not struggle, as you will only hurt yourself. They will not hesitate to shoot you if you should try and run away. Elf eyes are keen, and we should not like to hurt you or kill you."

Adelaide's eyes burned. He dared to keep up the game! He dared stand there and mess with her mind! The hell she'd take that from him, the dirty, filthy son of a bitch—more than likely he could be a slaver! Adelaide had read about them in National Geographics. They kidnapped random women and sold them as prostitutes across the American border! Well, the fucking hell with THAT! She'd show them what she thought of their nasty plan! Adelaide worked up a nice glob of saliva and spat at Haldir. She succeeded only partway, for the Elf came again and wiped the look off her face with a blow to her cheek. Adelaide was livid. Screaming, struggling, and swearing like a sailor, she made most of the noise. They could not tame her. She continued to sob, scream, and swear, no matter what they did. She caused quite a ruckus, as birds began to scream, squirrels began to laugh, and the Elves began to yell. The silent forest was transformed into a mad house!

Finally, Adelaide shut up and merely glared at her attackers, wondering why they hadn't broken out with guns or knives yet and completely mutilated her. But the Elves were amused. Contrary to Adelaide's horrifying notions about their intentions, they found her to be quite unusual. Certainly their history had recorded the deeds of many mortal women of strength and spirit, so perhaps this was one of them. Lindir came over to her and stroked her hair gently, if not a little hesitatingly.

"The poor child! Look at her. This is no trick of the Enemy. I really do believe that she has no idea where she is. Stay your hand! Child, look at me."

Adelaide glared up into his face. Lindir looked deeply into her eyes. He, like so many others of his kindred, had a gift for seeing deeply into the minds and hearts of others, particularly mortals, for mortals were like open books—and most of them told the most interesting stories. Adelaide wasn't sure what exactly he was finding in her, but she figured it must have been quite a mishmash of feminine emotions. Lindir straightened.

"She really is lost," he said. "And perhaps out of her wits. But that is no reason to strike her! Mayhap she strayed in from Rohan. The women there, they say, have tempers. If 'tis true, then perhaps this young lady has strayed from her flock."

Adelaide wanted to kill someone. She could not know, and did not want to know, that the Elves were just as confused about her as she was about them, though they had the wisdom and better experience to treat her more decently than other men would at seeing a young woman lost and alone in the forest. At any rate, they were not behaving like she thought molesters might behave. Perhaps they really were no more than a bunch of weirdos who just wanted the girl far away from their clubhouse. In that case, she would gladly go anywhere else, far away, so that she didn't have to look at their faces and they didn't have to look at hers.

"Child, come with us," the Elf pleaded. "We shall get you home soon enough."

_Of course. Seeing as you THINK you know where my real home is. Fabulous, guys. Absolutely fabulous._

"Now then! Can you walk? Let her go, I say. She will not run away. Child, can you walk?"

"'Course I can," sniffed Adelaide. "I'm not a handicapped retard, unlike some people."

Haldir missed the insult. He held up his palm, red from the force of his blows. "My hand is weary. What a little dragon!"

"For shame!" scolded Lindir. "She is far from her home, ill, in a strange land, which she obviously knows naught of, and you think to hurt her and frighten her!"

"Frighten _her_!" cried Haldir. "She is not _frightened_, Lindir. What else might we do, and what do you suggest? This maid will cause such a ruckus that we shall not be able to take her anywhere. The Lady Galadriel, perhaps, might know what to do, but I dare not take this little hellion into Calas Galathon."

Adelaide listened carefully. Of course she was familiar with the stories by J.R.R Tolkien, but she was pretty sure Middle Earth didn't exist and that these golden-haired yahoos were a bunch of nerds broke loose from Oxford, or something, bound and determined to make life miserable for young women with flat tires and no cell-phone reception. But at least they weren't rabid rapists—or anything mildly like that. Perhaps "Rohan" was their code word for the nearest gas station or Holiday Inn. If she played their game right, they would take her someplace where she would be safe and be able to call her parents.

At the same time, however, Adelaide had a vague feeling that she wasn't in Alaska anymore and that something really, really…unusual had happened to her.


	3. Excuse Me, I've Lost My Marbles

Chapter 3

Excuse Me, I've Lost My Marbles

Finally, Haldir turned to her. "We have come to an agreement," he said coolly. "Lindir shall take you to Rohan. That is quite far away, but we trust that you shall make it there all right. The men there are good enough for you, I expect. At least they are your kind."

There was a way he said _your kind_ that made Adelaide stare incredulously at him. What exactly did he mean by that?

She watched as a fair Elf with a darker shade of hair brought forth a horse from between the trees. He mounted it lightly, not saying a word, and beckoning to Adelaide. She stood rooted, a little afraid, and a little drawn at the same time, not quite knowing what to do. When an Elf knelt and created a sort of stirrup with his hands, Adelaide stared in bewilderment. Surely he didn't mean for her to step on his hands like that! Haldir gave her a little shove, and, helped by the rest of the Elves, Adelaide managed to get onto the horse. Haldir slapped the horse's flank, and together, the young woman and the Elf shot off through the forest. There was no time for her to say goodbye. _Not that I'd want to anyway, you pointy-eared pricks_.

Adelaide had ridden horses before with her cousin, but this was her _first real ride_. It felt as though the horse was hardly touching the ground, though the pounding of its hooves echoed the fast-paced beat of her nervous heart. When they broke through the forest at last, Adelaide's eyes just about popped out of her head. They were galloping over a wide expansion of rolling hills and valleys, with nothing in between. Majestic, snow-capped mountains stretched for miles in the background. This is did not at all like Alaskan terrain, and she began to wonder—just a teensy bit—if the Elves were right, and this was Middle Earth. She scolded herself for being such an idiot, and promised herself that she would NOT let anyone talk her into far-fetched fictions. What nonsense, after all. Why on earth would the Lord send her to a realm of historical fantasy?

Lindir tried speaking to her as they rode, informing her of the surroundings. "We are holding a course now east of the Misty Mountains," he explained. "And west of the Anduin River. Very soon we shall pass through the Wold and make our way around Fangorn Forest. We shall reach the borders of Rohan in a few days, and from there it will not be long until we find our way to Edoras, where King Theoden dwells with his son, Theodred, and his sister-children."

Adelaide did not reply. Okay, fine, let him play his little game. But she was beginning to feel mighty uncomfortable. Sitting behind the Elf, she had sufficient time to think things over. Obviously something had happened on Eagle River Road between Wal-Mart and her home because her car was NOT parked on the side of a paved road by a guardrail, and so obviously SOMETHING had happened, but she was so confused that she didn't try to figure it out; she pulled a Scarlett O'Hara: "I'll think about it later!" She turned her mind towards the situation at hand. She was wide awake, she was sure of that. Middle Earth, okay, well, she had read the books a few times, and Mr. Tolkien's essay on fairyland was on her list of thesis books. Elves, okay, well, as long as they kept their hands to themselves, there could be one big happy family. Rohan, okay, well, if she could find out any information on that side of the street, that would be lovely, thank you.

Lindir calculated that the journey to Edoras—without frequent stops—would take about two weeks. Adelaide checked her tongue before spitting out something very rude. Lindir was not a hostile person, at any rate, and he treated her decently. The least she could do was befriend him as a guide, since he certainly seemed to know where he was going. He didn't act like one of those fantasy nerds who drew maps and dragons on the back of high-school folders. There was a dignity that surrounded him, like the aura of a saint, or the natural fragrance of a lily. In spite of herself, Adelaide was drawn to that dignity and respectful of it.

A few days into the journey, they stopped for a rest beside the Anduin, which was close to the ruins of Parth Galen. Lindir showed Adelaide the ruins and explained about them in detail. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. Maybe the Elves hadn't lied, after all! Middle Earth? But it was impossible. She sat down on the sand and chucked stones into the river irritably. This was not fair. Frankly, there was nothing to be fair or unfair about, but Adelaide still thought the situation was ridiculous. Middle Earth! Nonsense. Okay, then surely she was dreaming. Adelaide knew she'd had extremely vivid, real dreams before, and perhaps this was one of them.

Lindir sat down beside her. "Would a song please you, my lady?"

"I'm not your lady, and yes, I wouldn't mind hearing a bit of music." Adelaide was very fond of music, being a choir soprano herself. Lindir took out a small flute, got his pitch, and began singing.

_An Elven-maid there was old old,_

_A shining star by day,_

_Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,_

_Her shoes of silver-grey…_

Adelaide listened to the beautiful lyrics and the breathtaking tenor voice of the Elf. To be sitting here at the edge of a pristine river hemmed on both sides by forest, and listening to a pointy-eared minstrel-Elf seemed a bit strange to her, but then, "strange" seemed to be the order of the week. When Lindir finished, Adelaide was smiling and clapping.

"You have a beautiful voice," she confessed. "What were you singing?"

"That is the tale of the maiden Nimrodel, after whom one of our rivers is named. Evil came from the mountains, awakened by the cursed dwarves, and Nimrodel's kindred left their dwellings and departed. She herself was lost in the passes of the White Mountains in the south, and so did not meet her lover who waited by the ship."

"Was Nimrodel the founder of Lothlorien?"

"It is said that she had a house built in the branches of a tree that grew near the falls there," said Lindir. "But what can you mean by a founder? For as you must know, nothing is in this world that does not have One Creator, Illuvatar. The Lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn rule Lothlorien, for it was named after the garden of the Valar, of which the Lady Melian came, and from whose love with Lord Thingol the Lady Luthien Tinuviel was born, fairest among all creatures who have ever walked upon this earth. The Lady Galadriel herself was a friend to Melian, and they spoke often of grave and important matters, least of which was not the dealings with the Silmarils, great jewels of beauty and power."

"Ah." Adelaide thought for a moment. That was quite a lot of information to digest. "So…you're an Elf. You know, it isn't every day that I meet Elves. I thought the lot of you were supposed to be working with Santa Claus up at the North Pole. What happened, did y'all go on strike, or something?" When Lindir gave her a puzzled look, she chuckled and refrained from teasing him any further. "I take it that Galadriel, being the friend of the mother of the fairest being in all the world, is quite an exceptional woman herself."

"You underestimate her full beauty and power, lady, for she is the mightiest and fairest of all the Elves of Middle Earth, and remembers well the Day before the days in Valinor."

"I couldn't even begin to imagine someone like that."

"Could you not?"

"Nope."

Lindir was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. "Now, lady, it is your turn."

"My turn to what?"

"Have you no song of the land you come from? Or of a tale of your country? Surely you must have something to sing for me. It is custom to exchange friendly music. But perhaps you do not sing," he added. "Forgive me, maiden, I had forgotten that music is not the forte of all men."

"Oh, no…I mean, yes, I sing," Adelaide said, a little embarrassed. And then, because it popped into her head first, she began singing an American hymn.

_Oh beautiful for spacious skies_

_For amber waves of grain!_

_For purple mountain majesties_

_Above the fruited plain!_

_America! America! God shed his grace on thee_

_And crown thy good with brotherhood_

_From sea to shining sea!_

Lindir's mouth dropped wide open.

"Lady!" he exclaimed. "I was mistaken indeed! Your voice is golden! From whom have you taken your lessons? 'Tis no ordinary voice."

Adelaide blushed sharply. "I'm a soprano in the Anchorage Concert Chorus. There are lots of other people who are much better than I am. I haven't got the vocal boost and boom that a real opera singer has. You should hear a tape of Maria Callas! Now _there's _a set of lungs!"

"If there are others who are better than you, perhaps you come from a land of extremely gifted people," Lindir was astonished. "But do not say such harsh things of your voice. It is lovely, and you have a very special gift. There are no female bards among the mortal men, and very few know the art of singing beautiful music. It seems you have been trained to some degree. But I am most curious…one with such a glorious throat should not be so foul in tongue...nor so horrible in manner. Such a voice is not common to any mortal I know of," Lindir frowned. "Not among those in Rohan, at least. Are you from Gondor?"

Adelaide sighed. "I'm going to say it again," she said wearily. "I'm not from Rohan. I'm not from Gondor. I'm not from anywhere around here. This is totally unfamiliar ground to me. I don't even know where I am. All I know is that I am Adelaide Edessa from Alaska, and I am LOST. Furthermore, I don't know where you're taking me, but it had better be reputable."

Lindir smiled quietly. "Rohan is not so bad, my lady. The men there are tamers of horses, and have strong women that you might get along with. But I know nothing of you. You have been silent for the past few days. Tell me of yourself."

"Well…I guess there's no harm, but what do you want to know? I mean, you're a stranger, and I really don't just tell anyone anything about myself. You know my name, and that's really pushing it, since you could Google me, or something. But I'm totally in the dark. You say we're in Middle Earth. Okay, great. Would someone like to explain just what the hell I'm getting into? How on earth did I get from there to here? Like, first I'm driving home on the highway, and the next minute I'm in Middle Earth. That just doesn't happen. Something had to have made it happen, and I'm sure it wasn't me."

"I am certain that I don't know, myself," Lindir apologized. "But if you came in, you must be able to get out."

"Yeah, but HOW is the big question right now."

"Perhaps you will find what you seek in Rohan. The king who rules there is wise, a worthy man who has fought and won many battles in his day. He is kind and generous, a king of old, and a renowned warrior with the mark of horse spirit upon him. His forefathers were great men, kings of a lesser line, but still great in their valiance in battle, making names for themselves and giving their heritage to Theoden. Why do you look at me like that, lady?"

"Because I didn't understand a word you just said."

"But I was speaking your tongue, was I not?"

"Yes, but I don't understand…" Adelaide shook her head. "I don't understand up here in the brain-box. You're talking about a king of old—I have no idea what that means. You're talking about kings of lesser lines and valiance in battle—I'm clueless. Couldn't you just have left it at 'Theoden is a wise king'? Because that's all I really need to know about him. If he's wise, he can help me."

Lindir smiled. "It is said that often the race of men are more practical than poetical, though in these past years they have become more concerned with what is above than what is below and in front of them. You demonstrate that practical side of mankind, lady, which I have not seen for some time. Yet it does exist among the mortals here, and you shall be content once you are out of Elven hands and into theirs."

"Oh, it's not that I don't like your company," Adelaide said quickly. "I don't mean that at all—I suppose I'm just still very confused." She did not tell Lindir that the focus of her confusion lay in the impossibility of a real world that had been created by a man of her own world. Middle Earth did not exist except in novels and the imagination. If it WAS real, well, Mr. Lindir was a very nice character indeed, and kudos to him. But there was still so much that worried and bewildered her.

For the next week and a half of riding out to Edoras, Adelaide took careful note of her surroundings and was much friendlier with Lindir, who asked her all sorts of questions about her home and answered all her questions about the land they rode over. He was patient and generous with her, filling her ears with Elven history and telling her much about the relations between Elves and men. A good deal of what he told her she could remember reading about, and was surprised to discover that she was actually in possession of more knowledge about Middle Earthen history than she originally supposed. But it had been a long time since she had picked up the books, so Lindir's tales were very welcome indeed. They exchanged many a friendly song between them, enjoying each other's voices. Lindir even gave Adelaide—when she politely asked—some pointers on her singing, such as how to breathe, posture, and how to let the voice and mind connect so as to blend skill and thought into one glorious masterpiece. Adelaide forgot to be angry and upset. She was actually enjoying herself.

They reached Edoras in the evening of the thirteenth day of traveling. A green hill rose up from ground by the White Mountains, and a fence encircled it. From within this fence were the roofs of houses and other buildings, and at the peak of the green hill sat Meduseld, the great hall of men. It reminded Adelaide of the Scottish castle-fortresses from _Braveheart_, or the buildings described in _Beowulf_. She was impressed with the décor and symbols—golden carvings of celtic-like knots and windings, horse heads, suns and stars, and trees. The roofs were thatched with golden-ripe hay. Lindir rode up to the main gate at the foot of the hill, and Adelaide saw with interest that the western side of ground was knotted and bumpy with small mounds covered in what appeared to be snow, but on second glance were tiny white flowers. Lindir explained that these mounds were barrows, otherwise known as a graveyard. They passed these mounds and continued on to the front gate, where men in bright mail and armor stood stiffly with their spears and swords. Adelaide stared; she had never in her life seen anything like it. It was like going to Jamestown, Virginia, except much, much better!

"Stay, strangers here unknown!" said the guards in a foreign language. They demanded the names of the riders, and Lindir quietly answered them back in their own tongue. One of the guards came around and looked up at Adelaide, who cocked her head. Nobody was speaking English. And the Elves thought she could fit in? What utter nonsense. Then, to her surprise and relief, the guard addressed her in English, more commonly known in Middle Earth as the Common Tongue.

"Lady, what is your errand here?"

"What did you tell him?" Adelaide whispered to Lindir.

"Answer his question."

Adelaide felt like she was on a game show. "Er…my name is Adelaide Edessa, sir," she said politely to the guard. "And I…er, well, I'm here to visit…uh, to visit the king." That sounded dumb. But she didn't know what else to say. The guard took a good look at her and then spoke to Lindir. The gates were opened for them, and Lindir and Adelaide passed through. The broad path was paved with stones and wound upward. They passed many dark houses and huts and stables and other rustic-looking buildings that stood silent in the night, apart from the occasional dog-bark or crying infant. When they approached the crown of the hill, they dismounted, Lindir helping Adelaide from her seat. She was very stiff and sore from riding bareback for so long, and her legs felt a little chafed from the lack of proper apparel between her flesh and the horse. They stood together on a high platform and looked up at the terrace above them. There was a stone stairway leading up, and Adelaide followed Lindir to the top. Guards sat upon stone-hewn seats there, swords laid across their knees. They roused themselves and stood as Lindir approached; he had cast his hood about his head so as to cover his ears and appear like a mortal youth.

"Hail, comers from afar!" The guards turned the hilts of their swords to Lindir and Adelaide as a sign of peace. Lindir stepped forward and spoke in the native tongue—Rohirric, Adelaide later learned, a sort of Anglo-Saxon language. Together he and the guards conversed quietly, and Adelaide shuffled her feet on the ground and looked around with interest.

Lindir stepped back, and Adelaide realized that all eyes were on her. She swallowed. "Hello."

"I am Hama, doorwarden of the king," said a guard with Hushpuppy eyes. "What name do you give?" Thankfully, he was speaking the Common Tongue.

"My name is Adelaide, sir."

"And what errand do you have to the king?"

Adelaide glanced at Lindir. What had they been talking about for so long that they hadn't even got in anything about her? She looked back at Hama, frustrated.

"Well, for starters, a bed would be nice," she snapped. "I've been travelling for days, and I'm tired! Besides, I'm very lost from home, and I hear that your king is something of a wise man. If he could answer my questions, that'd be great."

The guard stared at her. A great struggle seemed to pass within his breast, and he tried to clear his throat. But his vocal chords just would not work, and he ended up coughing into his hand. There was a long silence. Adelaide pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. Well, whenever he had the time of day!

"Great Valar!" the guard gasped. He turned to Lindir. "She is the very mirror-image of the lady Eowyn—the niece of King Theoden. What a pair they might make!" he said suddenly. "What a pair! Come on in, lady, and perhaps we can see what we may do with you. From where do you come?"

"Uh, Alaska."

"Alaska? Where is that?"

Adelaide tried to think quickly, and risked a glance at Lindir. "It…it's over the sea," she finally gasped. "I, uh, came from over the sea. You know...the, uh...the really big body of water? You sail boats over it?"

"From across the sea!" Hama's eyes widened. "I cannot begin to fathom such a distance. They say the Istari came from across the sea—might you be one of the wizards, perhaps?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Adelaide said quickly. "Just…just little ol' me." She was startled that the phrase "across the sea" should carry such weight, but then, perhaps these were people who didn't go vacationing to the seaside very often. What a pity! They really didn't know what they were missing.

Adelaide said a very fond farewell to Lindir, who picked up her hand and kissed it respectfully. She responded by giving him a hug—really, you don't spend two weeks bonding and then just wave goodbye! She felt a little sad as she watched him ride away, and hoped that he would take a good report back to his people. She had a feeling that she had not made a very nice first impression on the Elves of Lothlorien, particularly Haldir.

She permitted Hama to lead her inside. The Golden Hall was dark, save for a single shaft of light that illuminated the throne. The hall was long and wide, filled with mighty pillars and a lofty roof. The floor was paved with stones with carved runes and different colors, and the pillars were richly carved and decorated with symbols and intertwining knots and flowing forms. Hama brought Adelaide through the pillars and into another long dark hall that ended in a small flight of stairs up to a room in which, he said, the maidens slept, and there Adelaide might quietly find an unused bed and settle herself in for the night. However, even though the rest of Edoras was snoring away, the chambers of the maidens were abuzz with secrets, gossip, and other giggling that young women like to indulge in when the lights are out. Now they shut up and pretended to be asleep as the guard entered. But Eowyn, who was also with the maidens, looked out as Adelaide entered on tiptoe and selected an unused bed. The minute she sat down, Eowyn skillfully leapt from her bed and ran over to Adelaide.

"Who are you?" she asked in Rohirric, her hands on her hips in female defiance of another female. Adelaide stared at her.

"What?"

"Oh, I see you use the Common Tongue. Who are you?"

"If one more person asks me that, I'm going to be really pissed. But for the sake of everyone involved—my name is Adelaide. Adelaide Genevieve Elspeth Edessa, to include first, last, middle, and Confirmation."

"Where do you come from? I have never seen you here in Rohan before!"

"Well, I don't exactly live around here."

How nice to speak to another girl! Adelaide suddenly realized that she was starving for a bit of one-on-one with a human female. There was something comforting and safe about Middle Earth now because it was not wholly a man's universe, but belonged to women, too. She felt much better about her surroundings, even if the situation was still very confusing. She observed Eowyn closely. The maiden was tall and slender, with long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes that seemed cold and unrelenting. Her lower lip pouted naturally, but her chin was upturned in open defiance and pride. Her whole body radiated a kind of inner strength and betrayed a free, independent nature. Rather like an American! For a moment, these two girls faced each other.

"The princess asked you a question," snapped one of the maidens. "From whence do you come?" She was fat, with blue eyes, a nightcap and unruly hair. Adelaide grinned at her in a friendly manner.

"Alaska, 49th state of the United States of America."

"Alaska?" Eowyn's eyes narrowed, and she stuck out her chin. "The United States of America? That is unknown to me. Speak! Where are you _really_ from, and why are you here?"

"Whoa, hang ten a moment," said Adelaide. "In the first place, I _am_ from Alaska, and it isn't unknown to _me_; it's my home. It's probably unknown to _you_ because you've never been there. I don't even know if I should bother explaining it. Nobody here knows what the hell I'm talking about. Secondly, I'm here because wackos with pointed ears dumped me off here. Said I'd be more comfortable with my own kind. So there. Feel like discussing it?"

Her eyes were lit with a challenging fire, and Eowyn answered in response.

"I am the shieldmaiden of Rohan," she spat. "And we are not to be surprised in our rooms by unwanted strangers."

Adelaide glared at her. "That's not my problem."

The fat woman slapped Adelaide hard. "Do you not speak to the princess that way! You shall be punished for your insolence!"

"Less from you, Dana," Eowyn responded, never taking her eyes off Adelaide. She seemed to see something in the young woman, something she rather liked. "My name is Eowyn, daughter of Thengol. My uncle is king of Rohan. Theoden is his name. A son he has also, Theodred, and a nephew, my brother, Eomer. We are of royal lineage. So mind your tongue when speaking to me."

"Hoity-toity. What if I told you I was a fuckin' goddess right out of the sky, huh? Just because you're a princess doesn't mean diddly-fucking-squat."

"Titles mean nothing to you?" Eowyn challenged. Adelaide decided that she liked this game.

"I'm an American and your equal."

Eowyn smiled cockily. "You have a bold manner. I like it. If all the women from your world have such spirit, they must be worthy adversaries indeed."

"America is a mixed bag," Adelaide admitted. "I mean, everyone's different. How about you? You seem…well, kind of unique."

"I have been told I am a boy in a woman's body."

"A tomboy, huh? We have them where I come from, too." Adelaide grinned and reached out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Eowyn."

The princess looked for a long time at Adelaide. Then she broke into a smile, and reached out with her own hand, taking Adelaide's. The two girls shook hands.

"Okay, so I barely know you guys. How's about passing me a pillow?"

Eowyn scooted over in her bed to make room for Adelaide, who sat down beside her. The maidens gave the new girl a nightgown and a pillow. As Adelaide changed, the maidens observed her clothing and pulled at it, wanting to know more. They examined the tags and markings, as well as the stitching and material, with keen eyes and fascinated voices. Then Adelaide sat and began to talk with Eowyn.

"Hey, you've got some good muscles in your arm. Where'd you get the workout? There's no gym around here, is there?"

"My brother taught me many good exercises when we were young. Now I do it with him in secret so my uncle cannot see us, and my cousin cannot reprimand me. He is very much vexed if I try anything which seems to fall into the realm of the dealings of men."

"Uh-huh. And just how many things have you done that fall under that category?"

"Oh, I am well trained in the art of battle, as were my warrior-mothers and their queens and daughters before them. And I was trained to ride since childhood. I have a desire to wield a longbow, but even my brother will not permit it. And of course, wrestling is never allowed. I quite hurt myself the first time I tried. But you? What have you done?"

"Uh…not much in comparison to that. As far as sports go, I'm not very competitive. I like to kayak and hike, and I went ice-climbing, once. I took shooting lessons, although my aim is lousy. I like football, though. Football's fun. My dad's a huge Nebraska Husker fan, so the rest of my family is, too, and I used to play football at recess."

"Husker?"

"Hm, I'm going to end up expanding everyone's vocabulary around here…it's a college football team."

"Would you teach me to play?"

"Teach you?" Adelaide was startled. "Sure, if you really want to learn, but football is a team sport. It takes more than two people and a ball. If you'd like, I can teach you how to play soccer," she offered instead. "I'm not very good, but I know the basic rules, so maybe we could do that."

"I would like that," Eowyn said. "In fact, I would like to learn all about you. It is fascinating! You say that you can swim. _I_ cannot swim. I've rarely heard of a woman swimming. In fact, not many people have that skill here. Do you find it a necessary talent in your world?"

"Well, considering that ¾ of the globe is water, yes, it's an extremely useful talent."

"Is it! I've never heard of such a thing. A world made up of nearly all water! It must be a strange place indeed. But how could you come from this different world, apart from ours? Surely it is impossible. To _say _such a thing is impossible."

"You know, I used to think the same thing," Adelaide said lightly. "Thing is, I'm stuck in a situation that I figured would never happen because I thought it impossible. But the impossible just turned possible."

"What happened?"

"Fuck if I know. One minute I'm driving home, and the next minute I'm in Middle Earth. I was hoping somebody had a manual on the subject."

"But how can you be from another world? Maybe you are from another land in Middle Earth…a place where I have never visited?"

"No!" Adelaide gritted her teeth. "Look, maybe I failed geography in ninth grade, but I'm pretty sure that the world I live in is NOT this one. It's definitely not the same time-period, either. So. If you can get me home, or if you know of a way I can get home, that'd be great."

"I'm afraid I don't know where your home is. I know you call it A-a-a...Alaska? Is that the word? You call it that, but I do not know where it is. I have never studied such a place on a map before."

"That's because it isn't on any map you have here. I'm telling you, somehow I got from my world to a realm with a bunch of pointy-eared assholes. You think _you're_ confused! I think I've downright lost my fucking marbles!"

"I don't think you have," Eowyn said carefully. "Otherwise, how might we be talking?"

"Descartes' theory might explain it."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Well, if I'm supposed to be sticking around, what exactly am I supposed to do now?"

"Stay here, I suppose," Eowyn remarked. "My uncle may not mind."

"Okay. But what am I supposed to DO? What happens around here for fun?"

"For 'fun'?" a maid scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. There is laundry and mending to be done, lass. We keep to our rooms during the day and sew."

"What?" Adelaide was scandalized. "Who the hell organizes the P.E. time? Where's the mall? Do you guys ever go shopping? Camping? Hiking? Do you guys play games at all? Are there any dances or parties? Where's the loo? And for Pete's sake, don't you ever get out?"

"Get out? What are you talking about?"

"I mean...don't you play games, or anything? There's more to life than laundry!"

"Don't listen to them," Eowyn said hotly, taking Adelaide's arm and leading her away. "They're foolish birds that have no life to live. They've been reared on bread and butter all their lives, and have no scope of the world."

"Do _you_?" Adelaide turned to look into her new friend's eyes. Eowyn matched her gaze perfectly.

"I have seen more than you perhaps know of."

"That's cool. How about telling me all about it?"

Eowyn smiled. "Battle is one. Have you seen a battle, Adelaide?"

"I have." Adelaide hoped that CNN video footage counted as "seeing a battle."

Eowyn smiled again. "If only I had someone who could spar with me! It would be a pleasure to me if only we could battle. I would instruct these maidens in the art of combat, yet they have no desire to learn. They are unwise to say so. They will not be strong for that time. For when the time does come, they will find themselves with the chores of unworthiness, to mind the women and children, and to find food for the sick. What honor is there in that?"

"Actually, the medical profession pays pretty damn well. But you make sense, I guess. I myself hate it when I can't do anything because I'm ignorant. I'm really hard on myself too; if I feel like I don't deserve something, I won't take it. I have to feel worthy before I do something, and I can only do that if I know I'm knowledgeable and did all I could."

"Do you fight?"

"Um, no."

"In that case, I will show you how," Eowyn declared. "If you would truly like to learn. I have always wanted a partner to spar with, and you seem to have a healthy spirit for learning! And my brother Eomer can teach you some things as well. Would you like to learn, Adelaide?"

"Uh, sure."

That was the last thing Adelaide remembered before dropping off to sleep. Eowyn nodded at her, slightly confused altogether about this strange new visitor, and climbed into her own bed. The night passed as very peaceful, but Adelaide was quite restless, and did not get as much sleep as she would have liked to. At last, when morning broke out upon the ladies, Eowyn roused her and brought her a dress.

"Come," she said. "Those clothes are not for you; you are a woman, though I know the task is hard."

"Dude," said Adelaide sourly. "It's summertime, Eowyn. Do you know what that means?"

"Generally a lot of hard work," Eowyn grinned. "What is it for you?"

"I spend nine months working my ass off in school. The other three months I spend working for money so that I can GO to school. Five more minutes won't kill me."

"Maybe they won't," Eowyn said smoothly. "But my uncle certainly will. He does not like idle young women. And neither do I."

Adelaide sprang out of bed like a scorched cat. "Damn it! It's not being idle! It's called 'the proper amount of sleep'! And what is with y'all and gowns? I hate gowns. I can't wear them unless I have on nylons; otherwise, my legs itch and get windburn. And anyway, I hate corsets. Are you wearing a corset? No? Oh, that's good. I could probably bear with it, then."

"Bear with what? The mark of a true lady?" the fat maid from the night before, still scornful, spoke to hurt. "Every woman with dignity dresses like a princess."

That stung. Adelaide wasn't quite sure what to say, and so her response was not exactly the politest.

"So why do you look like you got steam-rolled?"

I don't think many of Rohan's women liked Adelaide much after that comment—except Eowyn, who thought her new friend was absolutely the pits. The White Lady of Rohan was simply bursting at the seams to introduce Adelaide to her male relatives, but by the time Adelaide walked again in the Golden Hall, there was not a person there who did not know of her. Hama's tongue had been wagging, and everybody strained to see the strange young woman from a foreign land across the sea. Adelaide felt very out-of-place in the spotlight, but Eowyn took her around and introduced her, so very soon Adelaide was chatting away and laughing as if she'd known these people for years.

"Tell me of your college," Eowyn remarked. "What sort of things do you learn? And why is it that women are permitted to attend such institutions? Do they teach you the practical matters of life?" She was astonished when Adelaide described her college as a Liberal Arts Institution that dealt in the study of the Great Books, written by philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle. Eowyn was naturally unfamiliar with the names of the Great Books authors, but she understood about thought and theory and prayer and contemplation. She marveled that Adelaide could sit in a circle with her peers and discuss Freud or Darwin with strong opinions and open minds alike. Adelaide also explained that she had studied a year of music theory, took full English composition courses, and still had time for sports, campus-service, kitchen-duty, and a social life off-campus, which included weekly trips into Concord or monthly class-trips to the seashore. Adelaide spun such fervent, vivid tales of the fun she had with her friends that the White Lady of Rohan could not help but feel a bit jealous.

"Tell me about your friends," she begged. "Are they all like you? I mean, are they very independent, free to choose whatever path they like?"

"We're a mixed bag," Adelaide said thoughtfully. "Milly is short and blonde but has the brain of Einstein. Courtney is a steamroller and loves to talk, and she's a huge mother-figure to the rest of us. Madeline is a black-belt and very quiet, but she loves to gossip and drink chai tea. Espy is our wild child—she snowboards, skateboards, rides a motorcycle, and surfs. Melissa is pretty quiet, but she's my college BFF. When we were studying for our huge Theology tests our sophomore year, we locked ourselves in a bathroom and studied for five hours straight. We owe our A+ scores to that bathroom," she giggled. "And then there's me, the project-perfectionist and school counselor. Everyone comes to me for help with writing and composition or project layout or graphic design, and I'm the organizer of parties and school events. When I come home from school, my BFF Jen and I plan trips to Seward every summer."

"Seward?"

"Down by the waterfront," Adelaide explained. "We go camping, kayaking, hiking, and generally get into a lot of trouble by trying to illegally pet the sea-otters. I'm still trying to land a job at the Sea Life Center—I've always loved museums and aquariums, and I think it would be awesome to be in charge of one! I would plan loads of tours and write books and form a website. That would be so much fun! But," she added suddenly. "I don't know how I would be able to do something like that…now that I'm here."

Eowyn wasn't sure what a museum or an aquarium was, but Adelaide's delighted smile made it seem as though these things were good, so she did not question them. Her hand closed over Adelaide's firmly, her eyes matching sparkle for sparkle, trying to comfort her new friend.

"Perhaps your coming to Middle Earth is a blessing for me," she said. "I have never before met anyone like you. We will be bosom friends, I am certain of it! And I want to tell you all about my people and my land and…and everything here that seems so foreign to you! I want to help you be happy here, Addy! You will be happy, won't you?"

In the excitement of the moment, Adelaide nodded, but later, when she lay tucked in bed, she thought again of the descriptions she had given Eowyn of her friends from school, and she thought, too, of the wonderful times she cherished with her class, and how much she would miss those times if she did not go home. Her parents would probably call the police and there would be a huge search that would last for months. Her face would be plastered across every Wal-Mart "Have You Seen This Child?" bulletin board. There would be a funeral service at church if she was given up for dead, and all her favorite hymns would be played in remembrance of her, and the priest would break down into tears during the homily (Adelaide smiled at that part). But thinking about how much her father would cry—that made Adelaide turn and break down into sobs into her pillow. She could not imagine hurting her father like that. Adelaide loved her daddy with all her heart.

_No_, she thought firmly_. I won't let this country get to me. I will escape and find a way home. I won't let my parents worry over me, and I still have to finish college. This is just a fluke in my life; I'll get over it soon enough. There was a way in, and there has GOT to be a way out._

But Eowyn had never heard of any "fluke" between two worlds before, or time-transportation, or experiments with "here" and "there." It was difficult for Adelaide to pinpoint exactly where the trouble lay because she did not know if the problem was scientific or psychological. "Because, you know, something could be wrong with my head," Adelaide said. "I'm not sure what could have happened, but maybe something went wrong up there and now I THINK I'm talking to a bunch of Rohirric people when I could still be in Alaska talking to a cluster of bald-eagles, or something." That thought alone made her hyper and nervous. She had never thought of it before, but now the idea shocked and stunned her, frightening her to the very core. The annual hospital examination always gave her positive feedback, and she had never been diagnosed with mental problems before! But there was always a first time, right? RIGHT?

Eowyn encouraged Adelaide not to worry.

"This situation might be seen in two ways," she said. "You may choose to believe what your senses tell you as reality, or you may choose to see it as fantasy. But to see what is real and call that the fantasy—that is foolhardy. It is what is born in our heads that is the fantasy, and it does not exist. If this were a fantasy, you would not be experiencing it. So, therefore, it must be a reality."

Clever Eowyn. Adelaide had to admit that this made sense, but—"It's impossible. I don't know what I can accept as real. You're storybook characters. You were born in the head of another man, and written down on paper. You're in the fantasy/sci-fi section at all the bookstores. If you're real, then what's my world?"

"Perhaps they are both real," said Eowyn. "But what do you mean by calling us a fantasy?"

Adelaide did not know how to explain herself and she was frightened to. She did not know who would believe her or if anyone could believe something like that—it would be like having Obi-Wan Kenobi dropping out of the sky and telling everyone on earth that they were not living real lives. Adelaide did not know how to accept her situation; she almost wanted to trust that it was real, but the difficulty lay in how it was possible. It made no sense to her, rebelled against everything she had trusted and knew as real and tangible. But she took a deep breath and looked at Eowyn. She didn't look like a bald eagle, and her surroundings were tangible enough. Perhaps Adelaide wasn't mental after all, and there was a real fantasy world out there (was that an oxymoron?) and she had gotten sucked into it somehow. She felt miserable and helpless.

Then, suddenly, her brow creased. _What the hell is the matter with me? I'm a perfectly normal, sane human being. There's nothing the matter wrong with me! Why am I acting like a whining six-year-old who doesn't want to go to school? This is downright stupid. For God's sakes, this is Middle Earth! It's not Disneyland, but it sure beats out any other vacation I've been on, Italy included! I should be learning everything I can and enjoying myself, not hunkering away and sulking like a little kid!_ She sat up immediately.

"Eowyn, do you really not mind me being here?"

"Of course not. You are welcome as a guest, and even more so than a guest, for you are as a sister to me already, and I need such companionship—I have been long without it." She reached out and squeezed Adelaide's hand. "Come. I have so much to show you and introduce you to."


	4. There's Horse Hair in My Martini

Chapter 4

There's Horse Hair in My Martini

**At this point I must apologize for the weird order of the chapters…I was trying to figure out how to update and fix the story online and got myself a wee bit muddled. I promise it will get ironed out.**

If there was ANYTHING that the people in Meduseld learned about Adelaide within one week, it was the fact that she ate like a horse and burned it all off with the same energy of one. Adelaide fell instantly in love with the feasts held in the Golden Hall: there were roasted boar and goose and lamb; enormous slabs of bread; stews and pies and cheeses and ales, and all kinds of hearty foods! Adelaide did full justice to her first feast at Meduseld, heaping a little of everything on her plate, scarfing it all down, and then chugging a mug of ale on top of that. Eowyn laughed and told her she'd fit right in! Adelaide was thoroughly amused and enchanted by the vast quantities of food, singing, dancing, and tale-telling, and, with Eowyn's guidance, she fell into place.

"I want to plan one of those things!" she told Eowyn enthusiastically. "What if we threw a party of our own? We could really deck out the Hall and organize musicians and perhaps have a rustic kind of karaoke, or something. Why don't we try it?" She hadn't done a lot of planning for a long time, and the urge to do something with Medulseld was absolutely too tempting for words. Eowyn agreed to speak to her uncle about planning something "small."

Meanwhile, King Theoden summoned Adelaide for a good look at her. He was a kind, man with golden hair and snappy blue eyes. He had the noble look of a king and a warrior, but his face was gentle. Adelaide hardly felt afraid, and when he spoke to her, she had no fears about being so comfortable around such a man. He inquired to know why Adelaide didn't like wearing a dress (and laughed heartily at her explanation), desired to know about her world, and then summoned a tailor to fit her with suitable attire.

"I hear that you and my sweet niece are planning havoc," he said. "I assume she has taken you under her wing. You get along well with her, then?"

"She's pretty cool, sire."

"She's 'pretty cool,' eh? I imagine that is high praise in your country."

"Oh, yeah. I like her a lot. She's awesome."

"I like you," King Theoden announced. "My niece has been lonely. She has no one her age to run around with. Go and have fun with her. Just don't destroy anything."

"I like your uncle," Adelaide chuckled to Eowyn. "He's a total bomb."

"He does have his moments," Eowyn smield fondly. "But what is a bomb?"

"Explosive stuff. Dynamite."

"Oh, such as the little black powder-horns!"

"Um, yeah. And you."

"Me?"

"Who else looks too damn beautiful?"

"O dear. I'm not beautiful, Adelaide!"

"Yes, you are! Stop denying it. Come on, let's go organize musical chairs."

"Musical Chairs" was not actually one of the games played at the first party that Eowyn and Adelaide organized together, but the lack thereof did not make the introductory celebration any less festive. Eowyn recruited some of the maids to help decorate the Hall with garlands, and Adelaide helped map out the spaces between tables so that there was a suitable dance floor and a small "stage" for people to come up and sing. And sing they did—there were many people who were unprofessional bards just looking for a chance to strut their stuff, and a good deal of admiration and praise was passed around, particularly when a child of about thirteen stood up and gave a hearty rendition of "The Dragon's Son." Besides the new table arrangements and the little "talent show," however, not much changed in the way of the feast, though everyone agreed it was well-done and great fun. Adelaide and Eowyn felt downright proud of themselves.

They became known around Edoras as the "Mischief Twins" and then "Double Trouble," which Hama came up with, and which was a lot easier to say because the two words rhymed. One girl was rarely seen without the other, and together, the two of them were a force to be reckoned with. They pulled pranks and practical jokes; played games with the other handmaidens; and were notorious for arranging parties, dancing until the crack of dawn, and experimenting with different foods and mixed drinks. Adelaide usually had all the ideas, but if Eowyn had not given her consent and comradeship, the schemes would not have worked and the friendship would never have worked, either. As it was, the two girls balanced each other out by the nature of their upbringing and the influences of their different times and worlds.

Adelaide was already a very independent American girl who had been raised in a culture that believed in individual status and personal dignity; she was never afraid of being herself even while surrounded by a people in a different time and place, and had no problems blurting out whatever happened to be on her mind, even if it was an opinion that seemed rash or insulting. She absolutely refused to wear gowns, and if she ever did, one could see her swishing around with sneakers on her feet instead of slippers or boots. She rather liked the confrontational aspect of the situation, to push against the grain of society. It amused her to be the rebel. In America, rebels were found everywhere because you could be anything you wanted to be and shun any kind of "stereotype" you wanted. But here, in Middle Earth, being an outsider who was COMPLETELY different, Adelaide didn't even have to try. It made her smile.

It was this kind of unorthodox behavior that made Eowyn respect Adelaide. If Adelaide had ever felt pressured to conform to a certain dress size and sex appeal in America, Eowyn felt pressured in Edoras to conform to the standards expected of a lady of noble rank. A lady was expected to behave with the grace and strength needed in times of trouble; she had run of the household when the husband was off to war, and ladies of even higher ranking commanded an entire village during times of trouble. It was the woman who carried the keys, kept inventory, hospitalized and nursed the sick and wounded, directed the servants, and arranged parties, funerals, and weddings. Sometimes they were even required to fight if the battle came onto the home-front. But they were not permitted to ride with the men, nor could they take an active role in the defense of their homes. Their place was at the hearth with their children, and this idea was repugnant to Eowyn, who had the very spirit of a man and longed to do as she wished, as men generally had more freedom and less binding duty.

"Well, being in charge sounds like fun," Adelaide volunteered. "Just think of all the things you could do with the men out of the way. I mean, co-ed parties can be fun, but it's nice to have a little 'girl time,' don't you think?"

"I cannot agree fully," Eowyn replied. "The men have no obligations, save that of fealty to their lord. If a married man felt a need to travel to a faraway land, he could pack his things and leave his woman in the middle of the night without warning or explanation, and his actions would not be held against him. Yet if a woman did these things, she could be hunted down and scolded publicly for the rejection of her duty to her hearth and family. Men have so much more freedom! And they are able to ride into battle and actively take part in the defense of their land against the enemy! What honor is there in finding beds for the sick and food for the hungry?"

"Mother Theresa won the Nobel Peace Prize," Adelaide said thoughtfully, but did not press the issue. A paper certificate and a gold medal in recognition of charitable deeds was not exactly what Eowyn had in mind when she talked of honor. In Middle Earth honor lay in the valor of battle—and only that. Adelaide could understand about half of that—after all, such a fuss was made about the great deeds of the American military—but having little experience with war herself, she had difficulties seeing why honor could not lay elsewhere. Plenty of people were constantly recognized for their acts of charity or their famous works of art. When she tried to describe the Sistine Chapel to Eowyn, the young woman gave her a blank stare. What renown lay in something that could be destroyed? A deed of great heroism would be remembered for years, and therefore the memory of the person could be held in honor for what he did.

Despite their opinions on honor, their respect for each other did not lessen, nor did their friendship feel strained. On the contrary, it was the open-ended honesty and genuine curiosity on both sides that made conversation pleasant. Eowyn felt, for the first time in a long time, that her voice could be heard and appreciated. For her part, Adelaide thought that Eowyn was very much like Jennifer from Alaska: open-minded and of a sunny, sweet disposition, despite all the cares and woes she carried. Eowyn's parents had been slain in battle, and her elder brother was close, but not a cuddly-close sort of person, so Eowyn was devoid of familiar affection, forced to face the world before her with hurried maturity and responsibility. Though they were almost similar in age, Eowyn had knowledge and a kind of foresight that Adelaide simply did not have. Adelaide often described her new friend as a wise old owl. Eowyn retaliated by calling Adelaide a mad march hare.

Now, Adelaide knew Eowyn had an elder brother—she had spoken of him often enough in glowing terms, for it was quite obvious that she loved him with all her heart. But big brother Eomer never seemed to be around—he was always off on business or a duty call, keeping the borders of Rohan safe and sound. Based on Eowyn's reports, Adelaide envisioned Eomer to be at least seven feet tall, with huge, beefy bicepts, a loud laugh, and a viking helmet.

As it turned out, he came back from riding around the Riddermark, and stepped into the Golden Hall to discover that his lovely sister and her new friend had duct-taped all the pillars like a maze—and each young woman was running through it to see who could get to the end of the maze the fastest. Music from Adelaide's laptop was blaring away, and Eomer had his first taste of Van Halen's classic rock.

"Forty-two seconds!" called Adelaide. "You beat your last time!"

"I did not! I had forty-two the last time, too!"

"Eowyn, you had fifty-two, and there's a ten-second difference!"

"That's not fair; you didn't write the times down last time!"

"I did, too!"

"Eomer!"

"Who?" Adelaide, confused, watched as her friend suddenly bounded over to give the tall, disheveled man a hug. She turned off the music and stood awkwardly. Eomer was NOT seven feet tall, and he wasn't wearing a Viking helmet, although he did look as though he had some pretty decent-sized biceps underneath all that armor. Long, golden hair spilled out from beneath his helmet, and Eowyn tugged his beard playfully. Eomer kissed the top of his sister's head, showing an unusual amount of affection. He looked quizzically at her.

"They've been feeding you well; you're looking very healthy," he remarked.

"Of course, what did you think?" Eowyn said brightly.

"I thought for sure you weren't feeling well the last time I saw you," Eomer checked his sister worriedly. "You moped for days, and didn't eat."

"Oh, brother, please stop pestering me. I am not a little girl anymore. Now come and meet Adelaide. She's an absolute delight!"

The tall man strode over and stood about a foot taller than the young woman who suddenly felt very small. A paw-like hand enveloped her small one, and Eomer boomed, "So this is the young woman about whom I've heard so much!"

Eowyn and Adelaide exchanged glances, and the man spoke. "I have been told many wondrous things about this young woman. News of the lady from across the sea has spread far and wide, even into the boundaries of Gondor! I was surprised to hear she had come here to Rohan, in the very heart of Meduseld itself!"

"Is that why you came back?" Eowyn asked. "Just to see her?"

"No, I came back on business. But now I see I shall have to stay longer! What have you done to the hall?" He plucked at some duct tape. "Eowyn, this is your doing, I'll wager."

"Actually, it was mine," Adelaide volunteered. "You can call us the Rohirric Hamsters." Eomer gave her a look.

"I don't doubt that most of these ideas are yours, but my sister will throw in her two cents and go along with anything that rebels against the spirit of womanhood."

"We're running races, for Pete's sake!"

"That is not precisely what I meant! What's this I hear about flirting with the guards?" he growled. "No proper young woman throws herself at men before she is married!"

"How about after?" Adelaide challenged. Eowyn threw a hand over her mouth. Eomer looked stunned.

"Such things are not fit for a young lady! And what about these feasts? You have been giving them every night!"

"I like throwing parties!"

"The cook complains that your dishes have been most unfathomably crude."

"Eowyn, he DID tell your Uncle Teddy about the bean-and-cheese dip."

"And he claims that you drink beer!"

"Well, why not?" Adelaide declared. "Rohan's ale is amazing, and I like it. And I don't get drunk, so you have no reason to bomb me. Besides, I'm twenty-three years old, thank you very much, and I'll drink what I want!"

"What about these?" Eomer held up one of Adelaide's confections, snitched from the kitchens. "I would like more information about the little hardened cakes."

"Sugar cookies?" Adelaide grinned. "Why, do you want more of 'em?"

"If you make me at least a dozen, I'll forgive you the flirting business," Eomer growled. "It's a pleasure to meet the turnover at last."

"Turnover?" Adelaide was enraged. "What the hell? Am I suddenly an after-dinner pastry, or something?"

"Eowyn, are we keeping this girl?" Eomer asked his sister. "Because if you don't, I will."

And that was the start of a very good friendship.

Eomer was generally a quiet, brooding man who smiled little and was all business and no play. But Eowyn told Adelaide often that her brother was secretly overjoyed to have a sort of "second sibling" to look after. He had many tales to tell of Rohan's army and the trips to Minas Tirith in Gondor. Adelaide thought he was simply the cat's pajamas. She explained to him that she had a younger brother, but that she had always wanted an elder brother, and that role was fulfilled by Eomer, who took it very seriously and looked after her like a bodyguard. Adelaide discovered in turn that Eomer was somewhat of a Rhett Butler character—a charming rogue who could dance until dawn, drink everyone under the table, and win every bet he ever made. He was smart, practical, and held his own set of personal values. But he was a selfless man whose thoughts were ever turned towards the betterment of others, even at the risk of his own life. Adelaide liked to compare him to a U.S. Marine, calling him "Sergeant Eomer." He retaliated by calling her "Feodral," a name which, in the tongue of Rohan, meant "Horse Power," which stuck dreadfully when Adelaide tried to talk about a car in a way that horse-riders might understand. As far as Eomer was concerned, it was a done deal: Adelaide was a citizen of Rohan.

But she still wondered when she could go home.

A month passed, and Adelaide began to brood again. She was not used to being out of America for so long, and even her class trip to Italy had been but four weeks long before everyone began feeling very homesick. The problem with Middle Earth was that airplanes and cars and trains did not exist, and Adelaide was not at all sure how to get back home. She tried to be happy, but nothing clicked into place.

"Adelaide?"

Eowyn was in the doorway, looking out, a finger timidly pulling at her lower lip. She looked hesitant, unsure. Adelaide looked up.

"What's up?"

Eowyn beckoned to her friend. The two girls stood in the doorway, peeking out at the railing over the great hall. Down below, speaking to Theoden, was a rather disturbing-looking man with greasy black hair and pale skin. He spoke in a low voice, but it was clear that Theoden seemed impressed by him.

"Who the fuck is that?" Adelaide whispered.

"My uncle is interviewing possible councilors. In his old age, he needs someone whom he can rely on."

"Old age? Eowyn, you're uncle's…like…fifty. That's not old."

"That's what Eomer told him! But uncle's memory seems to be slipping, more than it has in the past. He just needs someone to rely upon. At least…that's what this man down there says. But Adelaide, why this man? He's…well, I don't like him."

"He looks like he came out of Tim Burton's tumbler."

"He's been here before," Eowyn whispered. "He is the son of a humble farmer, but he's very learned—or so says Hama, who has spoken to him. I don't like him."

"Any particular reason…?"

"He stares at me so!" Eowyn shivered and covered herself with her arms, as if to ward off something disgusting. "He's always looking at me."

"A stalker!" Adelaide peered down at the man. "He looks like one, too. Why don't you tell your uncle about it?"

Eowyn stared at her. "And have the story known that my uncle turned down a councilor on behalf of his niece whose fears might very well be unfounded?"

"It doesn't have to be known!" But Adelaide was aware that rumors flew around Edoras like none other. It was, like, gossip city. So she and Eowyn stood there, breathless, watching the king smile and converse with this strange new man who did, two days later, become the official royal councilor.

"His name is Grima Wormtongue," Adelaide announced in disgust, flopping down on her bed beside Eowyn, who was flipping through one of Adelaide's Women's Health magazines and pouring over a recipe for lime-tequila. "And he has got a _nasty_ temper."

"How do you know?"

"I said hello, and he spat at me."

The girls made it their mission from God to find out all they could about this weirdo from the gutter. He was constantly bent over, so he looked shorter than he actually was. He wore black robes of nobility, but really, they looked like sick dog on him (or such was Adelaide's thought). His hair was a black mass of greasy tangles, and his eyes stared out from yellow, heavy lids and darkened skull-holes. His teeth were sharp, and his tongue was said to be forked, like a serpent's (but Adelaide checked—it wasn't). His nervous fingers were forever twitching, and he walked in a bowed shape, as if humble, but his voice was sneering out from under his hooked nose. Adelaide and Eowyn couldn't stand him. Eowyn discovered she was on the receiving line of the new councilor's affections. Adelaide discovered that she rated next to shit on Wormtongue's Hate List.

"I don't get it," she scratched her head after another unavoidable encounter with Grima in the kitchens. "What am I doing to piss him off? Seriously? I mean, aside from telling him that he could probably use a bath?"

"I don't know, but I want you to take care of Eowyn for me," Eomer snapped. "I'm leaving soon for border patrol, and I do not like the way he leers at my sister! Do not you even let that bastard at her!"

"I'll try," Adelaide swallowed. "But it's kind of hard—"

"He knows he can make no move when you are with her. Stick by her side like moss to a rock, Adelaide!"

Okay, and that plan worked for, like, two days. But his mutterings, curses, and irritable nature finally got on Adelaide's nerves. When she discovered that the slimy son of a bitch was following them through the corridor, she turned around and yelled:

"GET A HINT, IDIOT! EOWYN'S NOT INTERESTED, AND NEITHER AM I! SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FOLLOW SOMEONE ELSE, DICKHEAD!"

Eowyn gasped. You didn't mess with a king's personal councilor, even if he _was_ Grand Poobah of Assholes. Eowyn didn't like Grima any more than Adelaide did, but the girl had pretty much committed treason with those words. Grima, however, was too startled to think up a proper retort, and Adelaide had whisked her friend away before you could say "Teddy Roosevelt." As they hurried away, Grima finally came to his senses and began screaming.

"Daughter of a snake! Female dog! You are the very slime which clings to the bones of an orc!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself in a corner!"

"_Witch_!" the scream was animalistic. "_I know all about you, you demon! Threat from Mordor! Trick and Deceit of the Enemy!_ You just wait! It won't be long until we know the truth! King Theoden shall hear of your deception!"

"Somebody has problems," Adelaide observed. "Maybe he needs a checkup at the vet's."

Eowyn was probably the only one who understood just how serious the situation was.

One night, the White Lady of Rohan crept over to Adelaide's bed and shook her friend awake. Adelaide grunted, rolled over, and sat up. Eowyn's face was a pure mask of terror, and looked as if it were set in marble. Everything was very quiet, save for the rasping breath of Rohan's shieldmaiden. In the moonlight, her lips were pale and trembling, and her eyes were wide in fear.

"Grima has counseled my uncle to send out for your arrest and death," she said, purely frightened. "Guards are not looking for you at this time of night, nor will they try to make a direct attack upon you; you are their friend. But I too am your friend, and I would bid you run away."

"Eowyn, do you know what the fucking time is?"

"Yes, yes, I know, but listen, Adelaide! Grima hates you! He has called for your death, and my uncle—poor soul lost!—has signed your death warrant; come, please, get up!"

"Eowyn, I am _not_ scared. He's a fucking-bloody _coward_. No, not your uncle, Grima. I refuse to move from this bed until—wait a minute, your uncle signed a warrant for my death?"

"He did, he did, now come!" Eowyn tossed Adelaide's clothes at her.

"What for?"

"Poor soul is lost, my dear friend, and he barely knows what he is doing! Grima accuses you of frightful things, be they true or false."

"Who else knows about this?" asked Adelaide.

"Half of Edoras will be looking for you by dawn," said Eowyn. "Adelaide, you must ride away and out from Rohan. Go, I beg you!"

"What about you?" Adelaide pulled on her clothing with lightning speed. "I can't leave you here all by yourself! Not with that bastard!"

"Adelaide, do not worry about me."

"I do! Don't you get it? The only reason Grima never tried anything was because you had me and Eomer to cover your back. You could get hurt. Screw him over and come with me!"

"Adelaide, my place is here," Eowyn said firmly. "I cannot go and leave my uncle. I have a duty to perform—"

"Eowyn!" Adelaide grabbed onto her friend. "Look, I care about you! Ignore your duty! You're old enough to do what you want, when you want! You're always telling me that you want to do great deeds unto renown. You can't do anything here except tend to your family. Come on, please come with me!"

Eowyn shook her head sadly. "I wish I could. Oh Adelaide, after the months you have spent here in Rohan, with my people, you still don't understand what duty is to us! It is honor. We cannot ignore what comes from within. We cannot run from our problems as simply as that."

Adelaide opened her mouth and found she had no reply. Eowyn was still a difficult duck to figure out, but if the shieldmaiden of Rohan had already made up her mind, Adelaide knew there was no dissuading it. Besides, Eowyn was a confident girl who knew what she was doing! Nevertheless, tears filled Eowyn's eyes. "You always were a difficult girl to understand," she said brokenly. "And I wish that I could help you more. But right now, I have no choice. I must stay. Do not fear for me," she risked a smile. "Am I not the better swordsman? But no more idle talk, quickly, through the window!" Eowyn shoved open the glass panes and threw down a rope. Tying it securely to her bedpost, Adelaide grabbed her backpack and started down. Then she looked back at Eowyn.

"Well…life _is_ a bitch," she said ruefully. "But I guess this had to happen."

"You are happy here no longer," Eowyn said softly. "And that is why it must be so. We will see each other again…won't we, Adelaide, my dearest friend?"

There came the quirky smile and sunny wink.

"You know I'll be back."


	5. The Secondary World

Chapter 5

The Secondary World

**I kid no one when I say that my college thesis WAS on Children's Literature. **

* * *

The next week was hell.

From the moment Adelaide slid down the rope and lost sight of Eowyn's face, she felt like an escaped convict. There was a horse waiting for her with provisions (probably Eomer's doing, the adorable yuck-yuck), and Adelaide mounted it wordlessly. The gates opened for her, probably by bribery (again, Eomer's doing, the sweetheart!). She shot off into the night, and Rohan disappeared behind her, as silent as a foggy dream. Adelaide did not look back.

The next morning dawned crystal-clear, and by the afternoon the air had warmed considerably, but Adelaide had no idea where she was going. She was in a strange world without traffic signs, road signs, or driving directions, much less a map. She had no compass. Navigation by stars was difficult. Plus, how the hell could you spot enemies? Too much was uncertain, and Adelaide finally admitted to herself that she was pretty damn lost.

Still, the freedom was nice. Rohan had stifled her "alone time," and now, being in the free air again, Adelaide could think more clearly and reflect on who she was and what had happened to her. The whole idea of being in Middle Earth was still weird, and she didn't know how to accept it. She rehearsed the accident over and over in her mind, and thought of all the things that might have caused her to land someplace weird, but nothing struck her as especially logical. There was nothing to do except to go on riding until she could find Customer Service or Information Counter.

If they even had such things in Middle Earth.

She did not realize it, but she was randomly taking a path through the Gap of Rohan and narrowly missed Nan Curunir, the Wizard's Vale, in which the tower of Isenguard stood. She was fortunate enough to have completely eluded the long trek across and over the Misty Mountains, though while she rode oblivious through Dunland she saw the famous range and was equally ignorant of its title. She had no idea of the names of anything since she lacked a map and road-signs. Once or twice she thought impertinently that if a construction crew ever came out here, they might do everyone a favor by putting up road signs and "You Are Here" Information Stations. But it seemed a lost cause anyway. Who the hell traveled way out here anyway, where there were no roads—unless you were specifically getting banished from Rohan and just kind of meandered? Adelaide took a couple of turns, followed from interesting landmarks, and eventually hit the Old South Road—but again, she did not know its name, nor where it led to. But if there was a road, there was sure to be a civilization on the other end.

At some point in the trip, Adelaide began walking. Her horse, spooked by the noises in the night, bolted from her as she slept. Reduced to a biped state again, Adelaide shouldered her backpack and began hiking. But the land was strange to her. Water was foreign. She was scared to death of entering any forest, on account of talking trees and berserk Elves. Her feet began to blister dreadfully, and she stopped often to nurse them as best she could. But her sanity was wearing thin.

Finally, on coming to a fork in the road, she burst out crying in a fit of anger. Swearing and spitting, she had quite a tantrum before becoming a mature young lady again.

"Okay, Adelaide," she breathed calmly. "Let's think this one through. You haven't got a ride; your feet are shot, and you're almost out of water. You can either try a forest and hope the Elves are in happy moods, or you can keep on going like this—to wherever it is you're going. Technically, though, I don't think it'd be too wise...hey, what's that?"

Well, of all the love-erly pieces of luck! Someone was coming her way, from around a bend, either singing or humming. She was too tired to even care if it was an Elf, so she sat and waited. Who knew? It was someone who could ultimately help her.

The day was very bright, and Adelaide had to shade her eyes to see down the dusty roadside. Soon she saw a cart, drawn by a horse, rumbling down the road. An old man drove in the cart. He was tall, and wore a floppy blue hat with a pointed tip. His beard and mustache were gray, and his blue eyes had a decisive twinkle beneath bushy eyebrows. He wore gray robes with a silver scarf, and at his side was hung a sword. At his mouth sprouted a pipe, from which a pleasant-smelling smoke was rising. He was humming to himself.

Adelaide stood expectantly and fixed her eyes on the old man, hoping he would stop. A single glance passed between them, but the old man did stop. He peered down at her with the curiosity of a child and all the suspicion of an adult. Adelaide smiled hopefully. Old men were subject to feminine charms, and this guy was no exception to the rule.

"Hello, young lady!" he said in a deep, merry voice. "What might a young thing like you be doing out here so far from Rohan?"

Adelaide started. "Why, I—how'd you know I came from Rohan?"

"Why, you're wearing a headband marked with the symbols, my dear. I'd be a fool to think you were from anywhere else, what with that white horse and blood-red banner!"

Adelaide touched the band, which Eowyn had made for her. "Huh! Almost forgot about it. Now you're not going to peach on me, are you?"

"Peach on you? Why ever should I want to do that?"

"I don't know…I guess I'm paranoid. But it wasn't my fault. I didn't _do_ anything. There's a warrant out for my arrest in Rohan, and they'll kill me if they get their hands on me."

"Whatever did you do?"

"I don't _know_; there's this weird guy named Grima Wormtongue who hates my guts; that's all. I never did anything to hurt him. He's the one who had to go following me around and cursing me."

"Indeed? They say you committed treason."

"_Treason_…! Now wait just a minute! You _do_ know about me!" Adelaide cried, enraged. "Why didn't you say something?"

"My dear child, I had no intention of doing anything about you until I saw you. Oh yes, I know a little of you, but my mind has been so preoccupied that I don't dwell on one subject for very long. But now that I am seeing you with my own eyes, I guess I can see what the Elves mean."

"The Elves! You've talked to them? What do they say?"

"The leader of the Elves, Haldir, calls you a dragon."

Adelaide groaned. "Yeah, that's probably the impression he got. Well, listen, he wasn't exactly a bucket of roses about the situation either, and I nearly got killed, so I should think I'm the victim, not him. He can screw himself over, for all I care."

The old man beckoned to her. "Climb in," he said. "I daresay that you're looking for an adventure, young lady. Otherwise you wouldn't have stopped me."

"Come again?"

The old man chuckled. "Don't look so surprised," he said. "I knew that you were trying to stop me."

"Yeah, but I'm not looking for an adventure. Just the way out of here and home."

"Which will ultimately climax in quite an adventure."

"Yeah? And how would you know, grandpa?" Adelaide gave the old man a friendly, playful smile. He laughed heartily.

"I am Gandalf the Gray!" he said cheerfully. "I should know. I'm a wizard."

Adelaide stared at him, and hardly knew that her mouth had fallen open until the old man remarked, "Pray close your mouth, my dear. It's unseemly to look at."

"I know you," she blurted. She didn't know why it seemed appropriate now to spill the beans; she just figured it was finally time. A wizard was wise, and Gandalf had always seemed to know what to do. Perhaps he could help her! But when he turned his head in her direction, she blushed and looked down at her feet. What could she say?

"You've heard someone mention my name?"

"Yes. I've read about you."

"I'm afraid I have not got an autobiography out yet."

"Well, you should. But I meant…I meant…you wouldn't happen to be the same Gandalf who…kind of…went on an adventure with thirteen dwarves and one hobbit, would you?"

The old wizard smiled. "You seem to know quite a bit."

"You're Bilbo Baggins' wizard!"

Alright, well, so she was officially in Middle Earth. She was talking with the man himself, Gandalf the Gray! She blinked, feeling ridiculous. Dear sweet Lord, how exactly did one behave on a trip into a historical-fantasy novel?

"Well, well, well!" the wizard said good-naturedly. "What books are these, that you should know me in relation to Bilbo Baggins?"

Adelaide blinked again. "Er…it's a long story. Got the time of day?"

"All the time in the world, my dear."

Adelaide took a deep breath. She was not a historian, but she could outline the situation fairly well, particularly since the author happened to be included in her thesis material. Gandalf listened very patiently.

"Where I come from," Adelaide said slowly. "There is a country called Great Britain. In the late 1900's, a man by the name of J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a book called "The Hobbit," in which he described Middle Earth for the first time. He wrote about everything—you, hobbits, Smaug, Elves…and I can't damn well believe this. It's impossible. I'm being serious—I am! Everyone thinks I'm nuts, and I thought I'd lost my marbles, too. I thought Middle Earth doesn't exist, and it isn't supposed to. You are a figment of Tolkien's imagination. I don't get it. He wrote your entire history. He wrote about the creation of Arda and of Illuvatar and of Melkor and Sauron and Luthien and Beren and Thingol and Melian and Elrond and Bilbo and the Shire and Gandalf and Sauruman and—and everyone. He's got appendixes the size of phone books on the histories behind every single race in Middle Earth. He invented Elvish. He wrote about the Rings of Power. He gave his country its very own legend, its own myth. He was a huge fan of fairytales, was Tolkien. In fact, I'm reading him right now for my thesis!" Adelaide pulled _The Tolkien Reader_ from her backpack and flipped to his essay "Tree and Leaf." She opened to a bookmarked page. "'On Fairy Stories…Children are capable of literary belief, when the story-maker's art is good enough to produce it…what really happens is that the story-maker proves a successful sub-creator. He creates a Secondary World which your mind can enter.'" Adelaide suddenly snapped the book shut and glared at Gandalf. "So THAT's what's happened, hey?"

"Don't look at me," Gandalf chuckled. "You read it!"

"I WILL look at you. You're a part of this Secondary World. But I want to know how I got here! I certainly wasn't thinking about Middle Earth while I was driving along. I haven't picked up the books for some time, actually. I was currently on a _Redwall_ fling." Adelaide paused. "That, and _Harry Potter_. But I haven't touched anything by Tolkien—except this essay—for a while. So how'd I get here?"

"I would continue reading that book, if I were you. Tolkien may provide the very answer you seek."

"You're laughing underneath that big ol' hat of yours, and I warn you, this isn't funny. I'm about ready to cry. My mother is probably wondering where I am and why I didn't come home with the Doritos, and my sister and brother will be all scared, and Jen will be out of her mind, and the church will put up bulletins, and—"

"Do calm yourself," Gandalf scolded. "It won't do for you to cry now; you'll ruin your face. Here's a handkerchief; dry your eyes and please don't bawl out loud. I am certainly interested in what you have to say. But how do you know you can trust me? Perhaps I am an Enemy in disguise."

"I could ask a question to test you."

"Oh, indeed?"

"Mm-hm. So, what object did Bilbo find in Gollum's cave?"

"Ah, my dear…a Ring, and now I know for certain you know too much for your own good, which is why you are lucky I _am_ Gandalf. So, you are from—let me see that book—the Primary World, is that it? A real world, so to speak—real to you, anyway. How exciting. I hold my very author's words in my hand. A very wise man! And this is a picture of him, on this back flap? Why, he looks very much like Bilbo Baggins. He has a kind face and wise eyes. And our Middle Earth is his Secondary World! And you have passed into it! I had no idea that such a thing could happen! You therefore must know all about me."

"Well, I'm not sure I know what your favorite food is or what you like to daydream about. Tolkien was only specific insofar as your history, clothing, and adventures went. I know you're an Istari," she added. "And I know what will happen to you in the future."

"Well, my dear, we're off to a good start! You know all about me, and I know so little about you." Gandalf smiled cheerfully, and Adelaide blushed from head to foot.

"I'm so sorry—my name is Adelaide Edessa. My Primary World (how neat that sounds!) is America. I live in a state called Alaska…and I'm twenty-three years old."

"Ah. Then you are still in your tweens."

"My what?"

"Never mind. At any rate, we are introduced. I am pleased and charmed to make your acquaintance, and now you have got me very curious, which hasn't happened for a long time! There are matters which I must see to, but now I think your tale is secondary on my list of things to do."

"What's first?"

"Of course, you know Bilbo Baggins? Yes, I see you do. He turns 111 very soon," remarked Gandalf. "I am planning to show up and surprise him. It is to be a party of splendid magnificence, and I am sure that you would like to accompany me?"

"Oh, can I?"

"I asked you."

"But, like, I won't be crashing the party? I don't know anybody from hoo-hah."

"Of course you do. You know Bilbo…and surely you know of hobbits!"

"But I've never met a hobbit in my life, and I've only read about Bilbo," protested Adelaide. "I don't know anyone personally. Besides, I'm big and awkward. I'll probably squash them all."

"And I won't? Don't worry so much," Gandalf poked her playfully. "You'll burn a hole in your head. Tell me what you know about Bilbo, the Shire, and Hobbiton. And then, perhaps, you might tell me a little more of yourself and this J.R.R. Tolkien who so kindly gave us all life and breath."

Their talk lasted all of their journey, which took quite a few days. And if words were M&M's and carbohydrates, Gandalf would have been nice and fat by the time Adelaide was finished yakking his ear off. But by the end of the second week, they had crossed the Brandywine and were entering the land of the Shire.

They continued on along the Old South Road and crossed the Greyflood and then the River Baranduin, stopping to rest at Sarn Ford. They avoided the Old Forest and came up into the Shire at the end of the week, passing through a lovely, rolling meadow bright with flowers and sunshine. At the top of a hill, Gandalf indicated with his hand to the sloping incline and its little valley below with its tiny hills and farmlands and orchards. Adelaide was content to watch the surroundings as the scenery changed. It was September, but the ripeness of the golden autumn months had not yet touched the Shire; the land was still fresh and green, still flowering with the last remnants of the summer. The air was warm and fresh, clean and cheerful. Adelaide and Gandalf passed through the small groves and hedges, and she marked the stone walls, small wooden gates and fences, and the tiny gardens. As the cart rumbled through the Green Hill Country, Adelaide tugged Gandalf's robe and pointed out a bunch of little people farming in their fields.

"Are they hobbits?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yes, those are the Halflings of the Shire. You shall meet a good deal of them here, Adelaide. I think you'll take a fancy to them…they are cheerful, bright folk, and I think that you will enjoy meeting them…especially Bilbo and his nephew, Frodo."

Adelaide was close on speechless, but her smile was all Gandalf needed.


	6. But I Don't WANT To Wear A Corset!

Chapter 6

But I Don't WANT to Wear a Corset!

Frodo Baggins was reading a book.

It was a particularly exciting book, one he had snuck from his uncle's library, because it was one of _those_ books which the grownups never allowed you to read because…well, you figure it out. Frodo was in the middle of a particularly arousing scene between hero and damsel when he heard the singing.

It was familiar to him.

Frodo leapt to his feet and grinned. He would have known Gandalf's whistle anywhere, and now that the wizard was here...Frodo took off like a shot, running through the trees and bushes to appear on the bank beside the cart that was approaching.

Meanwhile, Adelaide was taking a cat-nap in the back of the cart. The warm sunny day and Gandalf's low, soothing voice had magic qualities that lulled her to sleep, so she curled up in the back of the cart amid the fireworks and promptly conked out. They rambled through a small glade, where the trees shaded them from the heat and glare of the sun. Gandalf was singing Bilbo's old walking song, which he had composed himself. As they reached a small overhang of bank and brush, Frodo appeared, his arms crossed. He gave Gandalf one of his impatient looks that never failed. He had a natural charm about him, and he liked it when he could exert that charm upon others. Besides, he was turning thirty-three, and this was a decisive day for him. Having Gandalf was a present for him, as was the big party that was planned for that evening. He felt proud as he faced the old man, but he kept his voice very calm.

"You're late," Frodo accused. Gandalf looked up at him slowly, and removed the pipe from his mouth, looking up at the cheeky young rogue. Frodo Baggins—Bilbo Baggins' heir and cousin—had the thin figure of the Fallohide race, a mop of unruly dark-brown hair, and an almost perfect nose. His eyes, his chief beauty, were large and blue, crystal-clear orbs that reflected emotion, thought, and interest. Gandalf, looking up at him, thought once more to himself that Bilbo had done very well in choosing Frodo as an heir.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early! He arrives precisely when he means to!"

For a moment, the breath was held between hobbit and wizard. Finally, Gandalf started chuckling, and Frodo followed suit. Soon they were laughing out loud like old friends—for, of course, Frodo had been introduced to Gandalf several times, and the wizard was quite a popular attraction in the Shire anyway. But there was a special friendship between Gandalf and Baggins, as Bilbo had been the first Halfling to get involved in the business of wizards! Frodo jumped into the cart and hugged Gandalf.

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!" he cried.

"You didn't think I'd miss your uncle's birthday, did you? So how is the old rascal? I hear it is to be a party of special magnificence!"

"You know Bilbo. He's got the whole place in an uproar."

"Oh, well, that should please him."

"Half the Shire's been invited…and the rest will probably turn up anyway! But to tell you the truth," Frodo's face fell. "Bilbo's been a bit odd lately. I mean…more than usual. I don't know what's wrong with him. He spends time in his study all day, looking at papers, and sorting through maps when he thinks I'm not looking."

"Oh really?"

"He's up to something."

Gandalf mumbled something inaudible.

"All right then, keep your secrets!" Frodo sounded very important. "But I know you had something to do with it."

"Good gracious me!"

"Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought-of."

"Oh really?"

"Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected."

Gandalf took a draw of the pipe. "If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved," he said, and yawned. "All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door."

"Well, whatever you did, you've been officially labeled as a 'disturber of the peace.'" Frodo's young face glowed with mischief and excitement.

They crossed a small bridge by one of the water-mills, taking the cart into Hobbiton. The hills and meadows were filled with the beauty of a September afternoon, for the grass was still green and blooming, and flowers blossomed along the paths and roads. Trees of every kind rustled gently in wind. There were hobbits tilling the fields and working in the orchards, stretched up on ladders to reach the ripe red fruit. The harvest would not be fully picked until the later autumn months, but the crops were ripe and ready, a full bounty spread beneath the warm, cheerful, azure sky! A troop of hobbit children came screaming after the cart with unbridled and unbounded delight, crying out the wizard's name and shrieking with glee for fireworks. They gathered in the road with expectant, hopeful faces.

Gandalf set his back up straight, and his brows worked furiously. After a slight pause, a few of the fireworks in the back of the cart fizzed and popped, in a small display of shining light.

Adelaide squawked and sat up, uttering a very unfeminine exclamation.

Frodo swung his head around to see where the female voice was coming from. At the same time, Adelaide turned her head in his direction, and, automatically, their eyes met. Adelaide blinked in surprise, and Frodo's wide blue eyes went even wider.

"Oh…Gandalf…you brought someone with you?"

Gandalf slapped his head. "Bless me, but I forgot all about her! I thought you were sleeping, Adelaide."

"I woke up."

"That's obvious. Frodo Baggins, this is Miss Adelaide Edessa. Adelaide, this is Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins' heir—but of course you knew that," he added, a twinkle in his eye. Adelaide gave him a look and then extended her hand out to Frodo, who placed his small palm in hers and drew her hand up to his lips for the customary greeting. Adelaide was charmed right out of her socks.

"Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Frodo said. "You must be visiting from out of town. Where are you from?"

Adelaide had had sufficient time to think about something grand. "I come from the Northern state of Alaska, the Land of the Midnight Sun," she said importantly. "It's far away across the sea." _There, take that, you nosy little busybody,_ she thought. _And now you can ask me if I'm the daughter of the emperor of this glorious realm_.

"You've sailed all the way over here?" Frodo was incredulous and delighted. How fascinating! "What a marvelous experience! Did you see any dolphins? I've heard about them. They're like very large fish, only friendly, and they rescue drowning swimmers."

"No, I didn't see any dolphins. But there were sharks. Huge ones, with white bellies and gray skin like sandpaper, and their mouths were as big as…as…the height of you. And we caught one for our supper using harpoons. It tasted very good. It had a nice bite to it." She chuckled. _Okay, enough with the lame jokes, Adders._

"What brings you to Middle Earth?" Frodo asked.

"I've come to wish your uncle a happy birthday," Adelaide blurted. "He's…well, he's famous where I come from." She didn't know what else to say. Then, on inspiration, she added, "I'm also writing a book about exotic lands."

"Oh, ARE you?" Frodo looked as though Adelaide was his new hero. "Bilbo is writing a book about his adventures! I've never met anyone who liked to travel and write! And Bilbo will be so pleased to meet you! He loves to meet foreigners, particularly if they come from very distant lands. And yours…does the sun really shine at night? It must be a northern country. Bilbo tells me often that the closer you are to the North, the oftener the sun shines because of the rotation of the globe around the sun. But he's had much more of an education than most hobbits. The sky is an awkward thing, I think, to study about. It's much more interesting to observe. How long will you be staying?"

Good God, Frodo Baggins was a chatterbox! Adelaide was blown away. Who knew? But Adelaide didn't mind the chatter. It made her feel comfortable.

"I'm not sure when I'll be going home," she admitted shyly, and then, a little more firmly: "I can stay here as long as I like!"

Frodo was amazed. He had never met anyone who could travel so far away from home and feel so confident that home would remain as it was while the person ran races from country to country! He was still very snug inside his protective bubble of the Shire, and Adelaide's words completely shocked him. Did she not miss her home? Surely she must! She was so far away, and the only way home was by ship! And a hobbit dared not even contemplate such things as boats on a river—Frodo's parents had drowned in an accident on the river, and so ships abroad on the vast expanse of ocean terrified him. He admired Adelaide immediately for her confidence and bravery. And she seemed quite at ease about it! He sighed in relief, as though her carefree manner had set him down comfortably in his world again. She smiled brightly.

"By the way, happy birthday to you, too. How old are you now?"

"I am finally leaving the tweens behind and beginning my mature life at the comfortable age of thirty-three," Frodo said proudly.

"Congratulations. I turned the mature age at—legally, eighteen. But I don't think maturity will hit until I'm at least twenty-five…or thereabouts. Maturity is individual."

"You really think so?" Frodo asked, but the question seemed redundant. Why, it was exactly as he felt, too, that each person grew up on his own time. He felt ridiculously close to this young woman. Not only was she brave and confident, but she knew so much already, and seemed set in her views. But such broad views they were! Why, he felt kinship there, as he did with Bilbo. His cousin had a wide scope, too.

"This seems like a good time to be having a birthday," Adelaide remarked. "I mean, Septembers where I come from are usually marked with Termination Dust and depressing showers of rain, but it's gorgeous here. Everything is still so green and beautiful!" Adelaide looked around and saw more hobbits as they scurried around doing this and that. What adorable little clothes they wore, and what fetching curls on those younger lasses! And the lads, they were all wearing such rustic, English-style clothing! And just look at those colorful skirts and bodices, fashioned to expose graceful arms, dainty ankles, generous bosoms, and delicate shoulders! Rohirric attire for women was hot and uncomfortable with long sleeves, heavy skirts, and the long shift you were required to wear beneath the gown for extra protection against hormonal eyes—and the material itched like hell. But here the clothes suited the sunlit environment. What a wonderful life! To wear that kind of adorable stuff and run barefooted all day long in the grass! Adelaide beamed. "I wish I had my camera!"

Frodo had no idea what a camera was, but he responded to Adelaide's generous praise about his homeland. "You've come at a marvelous time, right before our months of harvest. Bilbo doesn't work in the fields, but he praises and appreciates good tilled earth. How about you? Do you like gardens?"

"Depends. My mum was the gardening nut, and always wanted me to help her pull weeds, but I'm more into, like, floral arrangements, bonsai gardens, and small vegetable gardens."

"Bonsai?"

"It's a Japanese word for 'small tree.' I have my laptop with me—I'll show you my collection. They're very expensive to buy and difficult to cultivate as a full-time hobby—especially for me, since I have a good deal of other things to occupy my time. I'm currently going to college, for one thing."

"What's a college?"

"A school. Like…" Adelaide thought hard. "It is an education institution for learning," she said finally. "I have a good deal of classes."

Frodo understood about education. So this girl had learning, on top of it all! He felt delighted. "Bilbo was my teacher, though our classes were small, and he preferred a hands-on style. But he taught me my numbers and letters, and I enjoy reading—do you like to read?"

"Of course I do!"

He felt blown away. Most of the girls in the Shire were illiterate, and then, even if they could read, they did not have the time for it. Shire lasses were like the beautiful apple trees that graced the orchards; they bloomed with fragrant white petals in spring, bore fruit in autumn, and throughout summer were smiling and cheerful little things that rustled in the wind, causing their leaves to dance. They were a part of an earthy, charming world in which there was no war or strife, and only peace, love, and infinite care. They were the stuff of dreams: soft lips, plump cheeks, ample bosoms, enormous hearts, strong bodies, and minds that were turned towards the feminine crafts of homemaking and man-pleasing. Frodo was proud of his race and had known infatuation with several of the lasses. But this young woman facing him now with a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye and a head on her shoulders was not cut of that mold.

"What sort of things do you learn about?" he asked, a little shyly. Adelaide ticked off her classes on her fingers.

"Well, we've just finished up junior year…senior year I get to learn biology, political science, social philosophy, English, theology, and…and…I think that's it. Oh, and I'm taking an honors course in film history." She paused, realizing that he probably didn't understand a single word. "I study philosophy," she concluded, and Frodo smiled. That made more sense, and it astounded him. He had never known a lass who enjoyed the deeper meaning behind all of life. Adelaide laughed out loud when he made that thought known to her, though he didn't know what was so funny. She calmed down long enough to explain to him that for her, deeper meaning generally passed right over her head. Sometimes she didn't understand Socrates or Freud from hoo-hah, and was better content with a novel in her hand or playing tag with the girls outside on the campus. "The term 'deep' may be as simple and shallow as enjoying a decent breakfast," she said.

"But surely there's more to it than that," Frodo was astonished.

"Why not? Why do we have to make it so complicated? You ought to know. You're a hobbit. You're surrounded by all these good things. You don't think about it, you just love it for what it is. And that's a lot better, I think, than worrying about what makes it that way."

"But I like knowing what makes it so loveable." Frodo had never had such a wonderful conversation in a long time, and he felt inspired, particularly since they were talking about the Shire. "Everything is so simple, that's what makes it pleasant. We have everything we need: food, love, peace, dancing, family, and beauty. What more could one want?"

"I'm not sure. It sounds like a utopia to me."

"Well, I'd love to show you around the utopia," Frodo was immensely pleased and proud. Surely this young woman was so intelligent she might be very important in her own world—she might be the daughter of a very important diplomat, and perhaps she would write favorable things about the Shire if he gave her a magnificent tour! And what better way to start off her visit than a grand birthday-party? Bilbo would be enchanted! "I know every inch by heart. Bilbo and I went exploring quite often, and I think you might enjoy seeing the Shire for yourself!"

"That would be awesome!" Adelaide perked right up. Good Lord, this was better than visiting Italy. How lucky was she to be exploring the land of myth and fairytale? Then she noticed that Frodo was looking at her strangely, and she suddenly realized that hobbits probably didn't understand any sort of slang. "Oh, I mean, well…uh, 'awesome' is a term for 'nice.' What I mean is that, sure, I'll take you up on your offer. It sounds nice." She blushed furiously, a little ashamed that she had so much trouble explaining herself.

"You must come and stay with Bilbo and I at Bag End for as long as you like," Frodo offered immediately, as was the courtesy among hobbits to extend a very warm welcome to visitors—those who did not seem suspicious, anyway. "You and Gandalf both. How much fun we'll have!" The young hobbit was almost giddy with delight. Not only was Gandalf here for a visit, but he'd brought a very interesting guest as well, and one who seemed already to be very much appreciative of the Shire and everything in it. His pride and vanity were soothed and inflated all at the same time, particularly when Adelaide's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the invitation and she smiled, nodding eagerly.

"Gandalf, I'm glad you're back," Frodo stood up to say good-bye.

"So am I, dear boy! So am I!"

"And it was lovely to meet you, Miss Edessa," Frodo waved to Adelaide. "I hope we'll see each other tonight, and you must promise me a dance, or I'll be very offended."

"I'll keep a slot on the card open for you," she said demurely, and waved as Frodo hopped off the cart and disappeared back into the forests, more than likely to go fetch the book he had left lying underneath the tree. Gandalf was chuckling, and Adelaide turned on him, bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"You are, my dear. Casting your line out already, are you?"

"Huh? Oh no! No way!" Adelaide blushed severely. "No, of course not! Why, what makes you think that?"

"The two of you sat and conversed for a full twenty minutes without even acknowledging my presence. And hobbits are difficult to get to talking, unless you mention things that interest them, such as family history, pipe-weed, gardening, or food. You had him caught from the minute you mentioned sailing from across the sea, and then he lit up like the sun when you told him you could read. He is a well-educated lad himself, and Bilbo taught him many things, least of which was not the Elven tongue. Frodo can write, speak, and read the Elven language, and his interest in not only in explorations with Bilbo, but also in reading and studying. Your minds run on parallel planes. And on top of this he's come out of his shell and asked you for a dance. The last time I came, I was strictly under the impression that he was very much in love with a one Marigold Bracegirdle. Charming lass. Gypsy-black hair, violet almond-shaped eyes, and the cutest little chin you ever saw. Dear me, are you going green?"

"Of course not," Adelaide huffed. "It's a matter of supreme indifference to me. And our minds are NOT parallel," she added. "I don't like learning foreign languages—I hated Latin. And besides, I'd rather do something useful with my time than sit around and read all day. I mean, I like to read, yes, but I prefer novels and…and…and fairy-tales. Besides, it wouldn't be right to start up a relationship here. Remember, this is a Secondary World. I'm only here temporarily! And anyway, he's half my height. He'd have to stand on seven phone books to reach me properly."

Gandalf chuckled so hard, he nearly fell off the cart. "And you promised him a dance!"

"Well, why didn't he think of the height difference first, anyway?" Adelaide demanded furiously. "He asked and was going to be all offended about it if I didn't accept, so I HAD to accept, now didn't I?"

"I think he was too starstruck to notice his mistake."

"Fudge-buckets," Adelaide muttered. "That's a bunch of nonsense, and you're just trying to annoy me. Keep your opinions underneath that big ol' hat of yours and mind your own business." Adelaide was heartily annoyed that the wizard should be so bold as to point out her immediate crush. There was nothing to it, honestly! He was a storybook character. You couldn't fall in love with one of them—well, okay, maybe you could, but what was the point? You couldn't marry them and have kids. It wasn't practical to fantasize about someone with whom you could never have a real relationship. Honestly, what did Gandalf think he was implying? Silly wizard!

"Ah, well, when one is in his years of old age, one tends to tease the young folk," Gandalf poked her arm with his pipe. "But I will help fix your problem of height. We wizards are generally not permitted to use such spells, as they are rare and have a habit of going awry, particularly when used on humans or Elves, but it's not an uncommon thing. So I will reduce your size."

"You're going to shrink me?"

"Of course! I think it will be an appropriate action. But you look nervous, my dear. I can assure you I've done this before—well, well, just let me know when you're ready, and we'll fix you right up."

The cart ambled along a winding path that curved like a snake between the hobbit holes—the homes of the hobbits, indicated by round doors settled beneath the grassy banks of some largish hills. Bag End was the largest hill, set apart from the other holes, and overlooking Hobbiton from a higher elevation. A tree grew overtop the hole, its branches spread like a protective hand over the grassy knoll. The famous green door with the brass doorknob in the center seemed to smile and wink with its hidden secret—or perhaps there were no secrets here, only a huge joke, that a little hobbit should be a character in the biggest tale ever told. Adelaide wished she had Tolkien's brain. How did the man manage to imagine all this glory and beauty and wonderment? Hobbits! Adelaide thanked God that Tolkien had invented hobbits. She already liked them. What charming clothes and homes! She had an appreciation for small, neat little things, like small glass vases and tiny ivory figures and the bonsai trees that were just so tiny and elegant! And here was the same concept. Tiny people lived in tiny homes with tiny clothes and tea-things. What a charming place! And Bag End seemed the epitome of it all. A white picket fence enclosed two very tidy little gardens on either side of Bag End, where flowers grew in abundance, and creeping myrtle slowly twined around the mossy banks of the hobbit hole's sides. Gandalf halted the cart at the gate, and helped Adelaide down.

"Bilbo, I have no doubt, will not want us around," he mused. "He will think that we are pesky intruders, mark my words."

Adelaide didn't mark them very well, at first. Little, charming Bilbo Baggins, a grumpy old man? She didn't think so. But when she saw a sign that said, "No admittance except on party business," she began to wonder. Gandalf took his great staff and knocked at the door. From inside, there came a rustling of papers, and then an annoyed, almost tired voice, rather grumpy.

"Frodo, could you please get the door?"

Gandalf knocked again.

"Frodo! The door! Sticklebacks, where is that boy? Frodo!"

Gandalf knocked again.

"Go AWAY! I don't want to see any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

"Then how about very old friends?" asked Gandalf.

Slowly, the door opened, and Adelaide found herself face to face with a legend.

If hard, honest truth be known, Adelaide was expecting the animated Bilbo Baggins to come out of the hole. She wasn't sure why, except for the fact that the animated Bilbo was the image that stuck in her head when she thought of him: extremely short, with huge eyes, tiny buck teeth, enormous hairy feet, and a very round head of curly hair. But the real-life Bilbo Baggins suited her just fine (one doesn't complain about Tolkien's artwork, even if it is slightly disappointing). Standing only three feet, six inches, the hobbit was like some sort of munchkin poobah. He wore a red brocade waistcoat with a gold watch, and tan-colored trousers that reached below the knee. All indications of hobbit-ness were there: the hairy feet, pointed ears, and roundness of figure. But Adelaide could not tear her eyes away from his face. It was a kind, old face, with small, twinkling eyes. The lines that creased his forehead reminded Adelaide sharply of the same lines of worry that had furrowed his brow during the times of trouble with Smaug. This was a tiny being who had survived much, and lived over a hundred years to tell the tale again and again. This was _her_ Bilbo Baggins. Goodness gracious, what to say? What to do? Adelaide was on pins and needles. For the first time since arriving in Middle Earth, she sincerely wished that she was wearing something much nicer than shorts and a Boston Red Sox T-shirt. You didn't meet celebrities like that! Oooh, dear…

Bilbo stared at Gandalf for some time, not even noticing Adelaide. Then he stepped forward.

"Gandalf?"

"Bilbo Baggins."

The hobbit rushed forward and the wizard bent down to embrace his old friend.

"My dear friend!" said Bilbo.

"You look the same as ever, Bilbo!" said Gandalf. "Looking young for 111, you know! You haven't aged a day!"

Bilbo's eyes were misted, and for a minute, he looked ready to cry. But then he sprang up and gave a small cheer.

"Come in, come in!" he said, beckoning.

"Oh Bilbo!" said Gandalf.

_Time for Fan Introductions 101._

"There she is, hiding behind me," said Gandalf, and nudged Adelaide forward. "This young lady," he said. "Has been one of your keener admirers for quite some time."

"Oho, really?" Bilbo looked flattered as he looked Adelaide up and down. "I wish all my admirers were as pretty!"

"Precisely," said Gandalf cheerfully. "She has come to bid you a Happy Birthday."

Adelaide stepped forward, trying desperately to think of something intelligent to say. As it was, she was so overcome by fascination and excitement that she went down on one knee to be at eye-level with her hero. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, trying to think of something intelligent to say but a little overwhelmed by the moment.

"Mr. Baggins, I…it…it's an honor…a really great honor…to meet you in person. I've…I've heard so much about you, and I really can't say how much of an honor this is—"

"Bless me, child, but you do talk so flatteringly!" Bilbo took up both her hands, patting them. "What is your name, and where do you come from?"

Adelaide told him. Bilbo's eyes lit up like Christmas lights. "Gracious me! Truly, you've come from across the sea? How marvelous! Those are places that I should surely love to visit! And you came all that way to see me? What a long trip you must have had...and here I am, being rude as you like, without so much as an invitation to tea! I'm a heartless old codger, my dear. Come in, come in! A friend of Gandalf's is a friend of mine…would you like some tea? Of course you are most welcome to the party tonight, I must insist you come, and we shall shower you with a proper Shire welcome! Goodness, this is the best birthday gift I've had in years, Gandalf. Now, my dear, you come sit down in here and we'll discuss matters of travel and adventure!"

Adelaide and Gandalf followed him in, and the hobbit took Gandalf's staff and hat. "How about something festive? I have a bottle of wine from 1296…very good year, if I remember right. It was laid down by my father! What say we open one, eh?"

"Just tea," said Gandalf, and suddenly bumped his head on the hanging chandelier.

"I'm afraid you caught me a little off guard…I was expecting you sometime last week…oh well, it doesn't matter; you go where you want to when you want to. I have some remarkable jam that I bought only yesterday…would you like that on toast? Or maybe…my dear child, what would you like? I have some milk…very good for young things like you…or do you really prefer tea? Perhaps some wine? I'd truly like to serve you some of that new jam…I'm out of seed-cakes, I'm afraid, but I have some lovely rolls here…oh, and a bit of cheese, too…ah, here's an apple-cinnamon cake; and would you care for some water or wine?"

"Tea works," Adelaide was amused. Gandalf turned and bumped his head again on the low ceiling head of the next room. Adelaide ducked into the next room, following Bilbo. The hobbit bustled in with a platter of cheese.

"I could fix you some eggs if you like…oh, Gandalf? Where'd he go?"

"Right—never mind, he's gone," Adelaide turned to point out the wizard, but Gandalf had disappeared. Bilbo's face mixed with concern. And then, suddenly and almost magically (if not comically) Gandalf's head appeared from the next room.

"Just tea, thank you," he said. Bilbo jumped.

"Oh...right!" Bilbo popped a piece of cheese in his mouth. "You don't mind if I eat, do you?" he asked through a full mouth.

"No," chuckled Gandalf. "But feed this little lady up. I haven't been able to serve her anything substantial for the past week or so."

"Oh yes, of course! Naturally! Sit down, child, sit down, and let's get you some real food." Bilbo finished the cheese and offered some to Adelaide. "Please, please, please, take some, my dear, or my pride will be wounded. I haven't had any visitors to try my cheese in a long time, and Frodo doesn't like the way I fix it; he says I don't add enough herb—"

A sharp rap at the door caused Bilbo to shut up and scramble for cover. Wiping his mouth, he pressed backwards against the nearest wall and listened.

"Bilbo Baggins!" an angry woman's voice yelled. "I know you're in there!"

"I'm not at home!" he hissed to Gandalf and Adelaide.

"I _know_ you're in there, Bilbo!" said the voice.

"It's the Sackville-Bagginses! They've never forgiven me for living this long!" hissed Bilbo again. Gandalf's eyebrows raised. Adelaide snorted through a mouthful of cheese. When the voice went away, and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. "I've got to get away from all these confounded relatives!" he grumbled. "I want to travel again, and I want to see mountains, again, Gandalf, _mountains_! And then find somewhere nice and quiet, where I can finish my book! Oh, tea!"

They seated themselves at the little table, while the hobbit poured them some tea.

"You plan to go through with it, then?" asked Gandalf.

"Yes, yes, everything's been arranged."

"Frodo suspects something."

Bilbo gave him a look. "'Course he does! He's a _Baggins_! Not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle!" He finished pouring the tea and set out a plate, which he proceeded to load with cake, bread, sausage, bacon, tomatoes, and other bits of this and that. Adelaide dove in hungrily. Now that real food was presented before her, she remembered how tremendously long it had been since her last real meal. Gandalf watched her intently, but spoke to Bilbo.

"You will tell him, won't you?"

"Yes, yes…"

"He's very fond of you."

Bilbo stopped. He was very quiet. Then he went to the window and looked out. "I know," the old hobbit said. "I think he'd come with me, if I asked him to. But…" he paused. "I think in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire. And I don't quite know, Gandalf…"

He came back, his finger in his pocket.

"I'm getting old, Gandalf, and I feel strange," said Bilbo. "I feel…like butter, stretched over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don't expect that I shall return. In fact, I mean not to."

"So where will you go?" Adelaide interjected, unable to help herself.

"I have plans to visit my old grounds again!" Bilbo said cheerfully. "Let me tell you, my dear, that when I was younger, this old wizard here dragged me and thirteen dwarves out on an adventure that would make the hair on your toes curl! We had a most unpleasant encounter with orcs and Elves and a dragon! We went there and back again, up to the Lonely Mountain and back to the Shire! Through Rivendell and the Misty Mountains, Beorn's home and the eagles' eyries, Mirkwood and Laketown and the Lonely Mountain, dwelling of Smaug the Great Worm! I long to see those places again. Travel is in my blood and heart! And when I finish seeing everything again, I will go off to Rivendell and finish up my book. Would you like to see it? I don't let many people see it, you know, for it's a great secret. I think YOU ought to see it, though. It's my pride and joy. Wait here, and I'll go get it for you!"

The red book was bound in red leather with the imprint of a star on the front cover. Adelaide opened it reverently and looked for a long time at Bilbo's spidery calligraphy. "You have beautiful handwriting," she offered politely. "And you draw very well. Is this front picture a map of your trip?"

"It is, it is!" Bilbo was ecstatic that she could recognize a map when she saw one. "Neat and tidy, eh? But my poor study is a disaster from all the research I had to do. I absolutely love maps, but drawing them is a difficult piece of work, particularly when drawing them to correct scale. But it does look very nice, doesn't it?" He looked so proud of himself that Adelaide had to agree. "And wait until you see some of the things I've brought back from my trip! Yes, there's a bit of the Smaug vintage left, and I've a good mind to give it to Frodo, although, heaven knows, he won't know what to do with it. He hasn't got a head for that sort of thing—purchasing himself nice clothes and all that, you know. I think it would be a better gift for someone else who actually knows how to properly use gold. Have you a need, my dear?"

"Um, no," Adelaide said, feeling embarrassed to be the center of attention. "Happy Birthday," she added quickly. "I'm sorry, but, I really don't have a present for you—"

"Of course you do," Gandalf spoke suddenly.

"I do?"

"Bless the child, she forgot," the wizard spoke amiably. "She's a professional singer, Bilbo, and has come to sing for you on your birthday."

Adelaide's jaw dropped fifty feet. _Well, Gandalf, no bullshit, eh?_ Just how the hell the old man knew that Adelaide could sing was beyond her, but there was no time to correct him. Bilbo looked about as happy as a kid with a new bike on Christmas.

"A professional singer! To sing for me! Are you the daughter of some great bard, with a voice as fine as golden strings?"

"My dad was NOT a bard," Adelaide tried to keep from laughing. The thought of her roly-poly father trying to sing Pavarotti was the absolute limit. The man couldn't carry a tune to save his fucking life.

"But she does sing," Gandalf repeated. "And the Elves have complimented her splendidly."

Adelaide cast Gandalf an odd look. Apparently, Lindir had been yakking about her. Bilbo took to this like a duck to water.

"The Elves liked it! Then that's settled! You must sing tonight for us, during the party, my dear. I insist. Frodo should like it too. He enjoys singing…when he can find it. If you can blow _his_ socks off, I'll give you much more than compliments, young lady."

_Uh…and that'll be a real challenge, seeing as how hobbits don't even wear socks. _

"Well, if you say so, Mr. Baggins."

"You must call me Bilbo, my dear. You're a darling! So pretty! So polite! For a tween, you are simply enchanting, my dear! Has Frodo met you yet? You know, he's a good lad, but he's been rather moody lately. He doesn't have a lot of friends his own age, and he simply has the hardest time getting into girls. He blushes like a turnip around 'em, and would rather go play in the confounded cornfields. I worry that he'll never marry and settle down—a good wife would help him do just that! You've come along just in time to cheer him up!"

Adelaide was the one resembling the turnip. "Oh, I haven't come to—"

"Now don't be shy! Really, I insist you stay a while and cheer him up. He's been studying Elvish; do you know any of the language?"

"Er…no, not really."

"Oh, that is a pity. But I'm sure you could get along well with Frodo; perhaps he could teach you!" Bilbo brightened, and Adelaide tried hard with all her might to ignore the twinkle in Gandalf's eye. "And, you know, you could help him keep this big place all in one piece. I'm certainly not sticking around long enough to do it! Some days I really don't think he could manage. He tends to be a bit boring, and he's still at an age where going off with his friends daily is more adventurous than keeping house—which, I suppose, is true, but nonetheless…if you can get him out of his doldrums, you'll be a friend for him, I'll tell you that!"

"Hard to think of anyone being bored in Middle Earth," Adelaide grinned. "I mean, really, you never know where you'll be swept off to, right?"

Bilbo beamed. "Right! That's what I've always told Frodo! It's a dangerous business stepping out of your door. Why, Gandalf here involved me in such a tremendous to-do that I don't think I've recovered!"

"I wouldn't," Adelaide said, caught up in the excitement. "Going head-on with dragons would flip my switch for life."

Gandalf cleared his throat. "I think Frodo will settle down just fine, Bilbo. After all, he's not quite ready for an adventure yet. He really does love the Shire like a young lad with a lass. I don't think he'll give her up easily."

Just then, the door opened, and in rushed Frodo. "Uncle Bilbo!" he called. "Uncle—oh, there you are! Hello, Gandalf! Hello, Adelaide! Uncle Bilbo, I was wondering if it would be possible to go with Merry and Pippin for a pint of ale. May Adelaide come with us? I should like to introduce her."

"Well, you might try asking the young lady herself," Bilbo snorted. "Don't waltz in here and ask for my permission to take her as though she were your pet puppy, lad, treat her like a lady with feelings!"

_Dude, I love this guy. Bilbo Baggins totally rocks my world. He can come blow my socks off any time he wants._

Frodo turned to Adelaide and started, as though seeing her for the first time. He seemed a little hesitant. Well, she was a little big. She sat, waiting, while he fiddled with his hands and tried to think up the proper words.

"Have you never asked a girl out?" Adelaide finally asked. "We haven't got anything between us, so it's not like it's a date, or anything. Just ask."

Frodo colored significantly. "Well, alright, would you like to come? I want you to meet my friends—cousins, actually. And since you will have to go home soon, I would like you to enjoy yourself for a bit."

"Well, if it won't kill me," Adelaide teased him.

"Wait a minute," Gandalf said, rising slowly. "I think you ought to take me up on my offer first, madam, so that Frodo isn't bringing a giant into the tavern."

"Oh." It was Adelaide's turn to blush. "Alright, then. Will it hurt?"

"Not a bit of it. Come outside and we'll see what we can do with you."

Adelaide stood in front of the green door and faced it, Gandalf behind her. The wizard laid his hands on her shoulders and muttered something inaudible. Adelaide closed her eyes from long habit—it was almost like getting a shot at the doctor's. Her breathing remained steady, and she felt nothing but a slight tickle here and here up her arms and down her legs—and then the whoopsie-daisy feeling that you got if you were in an elevator traveling down from the third to first floor. Finally, Gandalf calmly ordered her to open her eyes, and she suddenly found herself only three foot, four inches. She stared up at Gandalf.

"This is totally cool," she called up to him. "The last time I was this high, I was…six years old. How am I supposed to manage the height difference?"

"You won't find many tall people like me," said Gandalf. "You'll feel normal around the hobbits. And don't shout at me. I can hear you perfectly fine. Just do not get drunk before the party, and mind that you stay away from the immodest."

"Yes, Gandalf. Hey! What am I saying? You're not my legal guardian! I _have_ none, at the moment! Besides, I'm twenty-three, and I'll damn well drink if I want to!"

Gandalf bent down and stared at her straight into the eyes. Wow, that was intimidating. "As long as I am two or three feet over you, consider me your legal guardian," he said. "Now go and have fun, but remember what I said."

"Killjoy," Adelaide muttered. She turned as Frodo came out, and he stared at her.

He wanted to mention that she ought to wear a skirt, for it was shameful enough for a lass to bare her legs in the home, much less in public! But since Bilbo certainly hadn't mentioned anything, he wondered if he might be insulting if he encouraged her to wear something else. How Hobbiton would gossip! Frodo Baggins, nephew and heir to Bilbo Baggins, rich gentlehobbit, going about the Shire with a foreigner who wasn't wearing proper clothes! It was scandalous! Adelaide, however, hadn't the slightest idea that Frodo was considering her feminine dignity. She couldn't figure out what exactly he was looking at. Perhaps her legs? How odd. Well, what about them? She glanced up at Frodo and gave him a weird look. He coughed, went a bit red, and extended his arm to her. He was lucky that Adelaide knew something of social etiquette, for she took his arm and walked along with him. Her head revolved constantly, and so did her eyes. He had to chuckle at her curiosity, and even more at her blushing cheeks as he escorted her through Hobbiton.

"Oh, they are such darling things," she murmured, meaning the outfits the lasses were wearing. Adelaide was a simple girl, but she loved playing dress-up. Gowns were never her forte, but she had always dressed like a peasant girl or a gypsy for Halloween and Renaissance Fairs. What bright colors and cunning embroidery! She wanted to wear one immediately. Certainly it would never do to wear hobbit clothes ALL the time, but perhaps she could wheedle Frodo into helping her manage one just once—just once! And then she could go home and proudly announce to the librarian that she had visited the Shire and dressed up like a hobbit. She was just the right size, too!

Then she noticed that people were returning her stares—and not necessarily in a good way. She couldn't figure it out. Why, those old gray-haired hens sitting outdoors by their spinning—how they glared! Adelaide glared back and then followed their gaze. Her legs, again! What was the matter with them? She felt hot and ruffled. Surely she wasn't violating some rule. The people of Edoras hadn't minded a bit, and even King Theoden had once boldly told her—in an old-man teasing, of course—that she had gorgeous legs, and it was true! Adelaide had her grandmother's legs—strong from working, hiking, playing, and swimming. They were very shapely. Adelaide was rather vain about them. How dare they all stare at her and murmur behind their hands? Oh well, what did it matter, anyway? It wasn't like she was staying for good. Let them gossip, the old pea-hens! She'd be gone away with Gandalf soon enough.

"Lass," Frodo murmured. "Relax, and stop squeezing the blood out of my arm."

Adelaide looked down. She was practically hugging his arm in an effort to feel protected against the barrage of staring. She immediately dropped out of his hold and shoved her hands in her pockets. She held her head up and tried to ignore the looks of all the hobbits.

The Green Dragon was on the far end of Bywater, just across from Hobbiton. Frodo beckoned to Adelaide just outside the tavern.

"You'd better let me handle my friends," he said. "They might crowd you."

"Oh, I'm used to that sort of thing," Adelaide said off-handedly, looking around, not really paying attention. Frodo's brow knit in curiosity.

"Have you a large family?"

"No," Adelaide remarked, still looking around and not paying attention. "I have a little brother and sister. But a lot of people crowded me in Rohan, and—"

"You've been to Rohan!" Frodo was amazed. "That's miles and miles from here, Adelaide! How did you—I mean, if you came to see Bilbo—why did you go to Rohan?"

Adelaide turned around and paid attention. "Like I said, I'm writing a book. I'm traveling all over, really. Then I happened across Gandalf…or, uh, he rather came across me, and invited me to come along. So…here I am!"

Frodo held open the door for her. Adelaide walked into a room full of sound and laughter, lit brightly, and humming with the throb of enthusiasm. Lads and lasses danced together to the sounds of fiddles. Old, grizzled hobbits sat silently on their stools by the bar, guzzling their ale and smoking their pipes. Farmers and gardeners exchanged vegetables and showed off their prize crops. A few lads were dancing upon a table in the back, and in one corner, a hobbit couple were making out. Adelaide cocked one eyebrow in amusement. She felt comfortable here. It wasn't one of those fancy city bars, where everyone was poking into everyone's business. It was a comfortable, homey site.

Frodo waved to two hobbits in the corner. Adelaide observed them as they came over. One was rather tall for a hobbit, with dirty blonde hair, and dark eyes. He had a cleft chin, and he also wore a vest of green, with a white top and buttoned collar. His trousers were of dark green, and he had a pipe. The other was shorter, and had a fiery shade of orange-blonde hair, with a sharp nose and pouting lips. His eyes were keen and merry, and seemed to be the jollier of the two. His eyes bounced over Frodo, and immediately danced on Adelaide. She felt herself blush.

"Well, well, Frodo!" the tall hobbit winked at his friend. "Normally I have all the luck, but you beat me to this one. Who's the good-looking lass, then, eh?"

"Oh, good grief," Adelaide muttered beneath her breath. Clearly this joke was going to continue for a while.

"Mediadoc Brandybuck, at your service, my lady," the tall hobbit bowed low. "But you can call me Merry. If you need _anything_, just call on me."

"Move over, Merry," said the other, and kissed Adelaide's hand. "Peregrin Took," he said, in a Scottish accent. "Otherwise known as Pippin. Very, very happy to make your acquaintance, my lady!"

"I'm not your lady," she informed them. "My name's Adelaide. Adelaide Edessa."

"A heavenly, enchanting name," said Merry.

"Flawless. Petite. Graceful. Incredible." Pippin kissed her hand again.

"So, tell me Adelaide, how did my cousin do it?" Merry asked. "A love potion? Serenades beneath your window? Flowers and jewels? A heartfelt poem? Or did he merely sweep you off your feet by the ardor of his…er, romantic passions?"

"None," Adelaide blustered. "I, er…I just came in today with Gandalf from…from out of town. I'm traveling." She felt nervous and unsettled, but Frodo casually placed an arm about her waist and smiled at his cousin.

"Actually, I used a book," he said, and winked at Adelaide. It was clear as day that she was a little uncomfortable by the teasing, and it was a delightful, heady feeling to be able to stand by her side and join in the banter of his friends. In any other situation, a lass might look upon the lad and admire him for his masculinity and gentility in politely shielding her from further embarrassment and, at the same time, casually joking with his male friends. It showed a certain amount of respect for both parties. Adelaide, however, didn't see anything admirable about it.

"Damn him," she thought furiously. "If he thinks it's funny to stand there and joke about something that serious, why doesn't he just come out and tell his friends we're dating? Because that's pretty much what he just told them, and it isn't true." She was still very much sore over Gandalf's observations and teasing, and did not like the way everyone else was carrying on so. She put her hand up to Frodo's arm and shoved it away, speaking for himself. "I'm from out of town," she said bluntly. "And I'm writing a book about exotic, foreign countries."

"Well, that's nice," Pippin remarked. "You came in with Gandalf, then? Are you a wizard, too?"

"Heh, yeah, I wish." she chuckled. "I'm just a regular, normal human being. But then, they say there's no such thing as 'normal,' so I might surprise you."

"Ooh, I like this one," Merry grinned, putting his arm rather boldly around Adelaide's waist and guided her to a table. Frodo followed, feeling a little disregarded and rejected. Why had she thrown him off like that? He was only trying to help her feel less embarrassed. Frodo did not yet understand that Americans were used to assessing a situation and looking out for themselves, thank you very damn much! But Merry and Pippin, who were themselves very independent and happy-go-lucky sort of lads, found the young lady very charming—skirt or no skirt.

"Can we get you anything?" they asked in unison as they sat together at a table.

"Well, I dunno…Bilbo just, like, fed me half his house, so I'm pretty full…how about a beer?"

"Just some water, I think," Frodo said lightly, and Adelaide gave him a look.

"Don't the girls drink beer around here? They do in Rohan."

"This is the Shire," Frodo said sternly. "It isn't proper for a young lady to be drinking beer."

Adelaide faced him, feeling slightly rebellious. _So much for our first conversation in which he was apparently "star-struck." I've gone and shocked the hell right out of him! He should be nice and holy now!_ She had astonished him, and the rebel in her cheered, as it had done in Rohan. But before she could go into a long-winded speech about individual rights and freedom, Frodo said, "Gandalf warned you about drinking and besides, it isn't the proper time of day for such things—for a lass, at any rate. I think some water will do for you."

She blinked, gave him a nasty look, and then decided to hold her temper. Merry and Pippin were showering her with attention and questions, and she didn't want to spoil the cheerful mood, even though her desires had just been suppressed by a midget. Her anger and frustrations melted away as she conversed with the three hobbits, who wanted to know everything about her, particularly her family and her home. Adelaide found herself delving deeply into a varied but glowing portrait of Alaska, describing the terrain, flora, and fauna with obvious pride. The hobbits had never seen mountains or animals like the musk-ox and grizzly-bear. They hung on her every word and pelted her with question after question. What sort of food did she eat in the north? Who on earth would built a home of snow and ice, and how did you do it? Were there great forests or mountains that spouted fire, like in the stories? Did the people ever worry about dragons? Were the Elves friendly? Adelaide patiently explained that Elves did not exist in Alaska, drawing confused looks from the hobbits. No Elves? Well, what fun was that? They looked disappointed, and Adelaide cheered them up with a story about halibut fishing.

Suddenly, she turned to Frodo with a worried look. "Good Lord, I just remembered. I told Bilbo I'd sing for him. What sort of music does he like? I mean, I haven't any idea what hobbits like, and I haven't practiced, either. What would you suggest?"

"Something poetical," Frodo said thoughtfully. "Do you know Elvish?"

"Not enough," she groaned. "In fact, not at all. But…but I do know how to sing songs written in foreign languages. Bizet, Debussey, Handel, and all that stuff. Could he settle for that?"

Frodo shook his head. "I don't know what Bizet is, but I…I think that Bilbo wouldn't understand it. He likes things that he can understand." He was astonished that she did not know Elvish. "Have you visited the Elves, yet?" he asked politely.

"No, and I don't care to."

Her abrupt, rude manner caught him off guard. She looked very angry. But before he could question her, Merry spoke up.

"How about giving us a taste of what you can do?"

"Now?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"No!" hissed Frodo. "This is no place for her to be doing such things!"

"But it isn't as if it's inappropriate," Pippin protested. "Merry and I do it all the time."

"Adelaide is a lass," Frodo snapped. "Not a lad!" The thought of a bare-legged woman dancing on a table and belting out a tavern song made him shudder. It was the height of scandal. Bad enough he had dared to take her into public like that, but if he let her "show her stuff," she'd be showing it, alright, in fact more than he wanted her to. He was already embarrassed by her lack of feminine dignity, and didn't know what Bilbo would say if a dozen matrons showed up on Bag End's doorstep complaining that Frodo went around with bare-legged hussies. Adelaide, however, was still oblivious to Frodo's embarrassment.

"I could try it," she suggested, putting in her two cents. "I know _A Boy Named Sue_. That's a good one!"

"You're not doing it here." Frodo's ice-cold tone of voice made Adelaide cringe and look at him. She was arguing with Tolkien's hero! Oh dear, WHY couldn't she make a nice impression anywhere? And why on earth did she even CARE? Perhaps it was the need to please such an important character who was the relative of another important character whom she loved very much. So she bristled, but kept her temper.

"Okay, okay. You don't have to snap at me."

There was an awkward silence. Merry and Pippin sipped their beer quietly, and Frodo finished his in one gulp. But Adelaide sat staring at her mug of water, feeling sick and humiliated. She hadn't meant to snap like that. Obviously there were rules that a lass had to follow around here, and she wasn't doing a good job so far. She was disgusted that it should hurt her pride. Why should she care? Feeling very irritable, and longing for a decent conversation that didn't revolve around her, she started asking questions of the hobbits. How big was the Shire? What families lived in what towns, and did people walk everywhere or did they ride horseback at all? What was the function of currency among hobbits? Was fear a motivator for their preservation of such a beautiful, peaceful land? What were the laws? Did they have a government? What about education? Was there a social ladder that one could climb? Adelaide was rewarded with very long and extremely detailed answers to each question, and the conversation lasted for some time, all the way until the hour before sunset, when the sun began to fade and people started rushing homeward to change their clothes in preparation for the party that evening. Merry and Pippin said their farewells to Adelaide (and made her promise to give them ALL the waltzes).

Adelaide left with Frodo. Her anger and frustration had smoothed away into excitement for the party and inner satisfaction that she had smoothed over the awkward situation all by herself with no harm to either party. But Frodo did not say anything to her. When he did, Adelaide almost slugged him.

"We'll get you back to Bag End and clean you up, and you can put on some fresh clothes," he said tersely. "Your attire is hardly appropriate for a party."

"There!" she turned on him and forgot all about the fact that she was snapping at Tolkien's hero. "You came out and said it, finally. Why didn't you just say it earlier? 'You're not wearing proper clothing.' I wouldn't have been insulted." The Shire felt very different than Rohan; that is, in Rohan she had not been so timid about wanting approval and caring whether or not she got it, and the feeling of needing approval made her angry and snappish. _Why should I care whether or not he gives a damn? Whether ANYONE gives a damn? It's none of their business. Eowyn would tell me to let the thing alone and just deal with it, but this is stupid._

"It's hardly my place to ask you to conduct yourself like a lady," Frodo said shortly. "Whatever should folk think if you ran around in those ridiculous pants, and such a tunic? It looks as though you're showing off half your body!"

Adelaide's flags of rebellion were raised, and her cheeks turned scarlet in her fury. Who did he think he was, the Pope? "I personally don't care what anyone thinks."

"That's obvious," Frodo said. "But you ought to care. It isn't decent, and you'll cause the most atrocious amount of scandal. I'm trying to think about your dignity! You wouldn't want to feel embarrassed or upset because people were talking about you behind your back, surely? It does make for a miserable time, especially when you want to dance at a party."

"I don't need you to look after me, thank you very much!" But Adelaide grudgingly had to admit that Frodo was right. She remembered a time when she had been invited to an extremely elegant Charity Ball and stubbornly insisted on wearing a cocktail dress only to discover to her mortification that all the women and young ladies were wearing full-length ball gowns. The rebel lowered her flag sheepishly, and Frodo was relieved to hear the gentleness in her voice when she spoke again. "Could I really wear hobbit-clothing?" she asked shyly. "I did love the outfits all the girls were wearing today."

Frodo breathed a sigh of relief and offered his arm to the young woman, who took it politely. "I'm glad you like them, Adelaide. I think you would look very pretty in one," he said kindly, so as to soothe her ruffled vanity. Bilbo had taught him that females—that strange and beautiful sex—took pride in their looks and were never satisfied unless you told them that they were physically attractive. Adelaide seemed no different. She looked ridiculously pleased and flattered by his statement. She at least had the sense to see when she was being stupid, and though he was humiliatingly aware that he had spoken very openly and rudely to her, his pride was smoothed over by the fact that she hadn't pointed this blunder out to him—in fact, she seemed oblivious to the fact that he had even spoken so bluntly to his guest. They had conversed, argued, and made up as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. He did not yet know that the majority of Americans were not accustomed to etiquette between hosts and guests, and that, being a very tolerant, open-minded people, Americans saw no harm in baring their opinions to each other and arguing about them. Adelaide was no different, and for her part, she thought it very pleasant to have someone to really converse with, someone who was not afraid to let her know about his opinions. Men who were timid about their feelings and personal opinions held no interest for her because they beat around the bush and tried hard to say anything but the truth; practical men gave their opinions openly so they could be discussed in decent conversation. Adelaide liked that open-minded sensibility, even as Frodo was shocked to discover that he enjoyed it in a lass.

They walked along for a while, but as they climbed the hill towards Bag End, Adelaide's eyes suddenly caught sight of the brilliant sunset. The creamy folds of pink and orange were slowly fading into the velvet sheen of blue, and high above, beyond, one could see the first twinkling star, shining down like a beam of cool, clear light. She stopped for a moment and admired the sunset. It reminded her very much of the sunsets in Alaska, and she wondered briefly if the same sky existed for both Primary and Secondary worlds. Was her daddy flying his airplane beneath the same sky of melded color? She couldn't see any jet-streaks across the sky, nor the flickering of any aerial lights. Her heart wrenched. Daddy, dear daddy! And poor mum! If Adelaide had had ruby slippers, she would have knocked the heels together immediately and wished "There's no place like home!"

Frodo watched her. He could guess that perhaps she missed her home, but he did not want to allude to anything painful. Instead, he pointed out the single star. "The Elves call her Elbereth," he said. "The Star-Kindler. Elbereth."

"Oh. Where I come from, we call the first star Venus…which is actually not a star, but a planet…but it looks like a star."

"Venus?"

"She's a goddess."

"Oh…like Elbereth, then. Varda."

"Yeah. But Venus isn't a goddess of the sky or stars. Venus was the goddess of love and passion. She had a little winged cherub that followed her around, shooting arrows into everyone's ass. He was Eros." Adelaide pressed her lips together and nodded. "But that's only Greek Mythology."

"It doesn't feel right, somehow, for a goddess of love to be placed in the sky," Frodo argued. "She sounds very earthly to me."

"Oh, love can be heavenly," Adelaide started to walk again. "Or so I've been told."

"You've never loved?" Frodo teased her.

"Oh…sure, I have."

"Got a lover, have you?"

"Nope."

"Who was he?"

"No, I'm serious, I've never had a lover—unless…well, I suppose you could count John from the pool, but we never kissed. The weird thing of it was that he spent weeks flirting and showing off, and by the time he got up the courage to ask me out, he disappeared the day after and I didn't see him until two months later with a blonde broad on his arm. I wasn't hurt or disappointed at all. I thought it was hilarious. Kudos to him! Besides, I was eighteen, and my mother didn't want me dating anyone."

"You were eighteen?" Frodo remembered being eighteen, and it had been a particularly irritating time for him. The tween years were the rebellious, irresponsible years. "Why didn't your mother approve of your courtship?"

"Oh, my mum's very traditional. She's almost like a turtle—she retreats into her shell of things that she knows how to control when something outside of that dominance faces her." Adelaide chuckled. "She wanted so much to protect me from the raging hormones of all the guys, but she also knows darn well that she can't keep the apron-strings tied forever. Letting me go, sometimes, is very nerve-racking for her."

"Hm, that's not a problem for Bilbo. I think if he was not so intent that I should be his heir he would have kicked me out years ago."

"Yes, but what would you have done? The Shire is all you know, right?"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"See, in my world, if my parents kicked me out, I have the option of traveling wherever I want, getting any kind of job I can find, living in whatever state or country suits me, and making the best of life that I can. It's a big world out there. That's my mum's fear. I think she's afraid I might end up in…in…Haarlem, or something."

Frodo wasn't sure what Haarlem was, but he supposed it must not have been a very nice place. "How old are you, anyway?" He did not mean to ask the inappropriate question; it popped out. But Adelaide did not have a problem answering.

"Twenty-three."

"You're so young! Could you really strike out on your own? What do you know of the world?"

"Enough." She seemed very confident and secure in herself. Frodo marveled at that. Adelaide seemed very content in her life, and when he remarked upon it, she just grinned. "I do precisely what I want with my life."

He laughed. "And then people like me come along and tell you you're not decent."

"I make mistakes often enough."

"You're good enough to admit it."

"It's embarrassing." Her frank honesty astounded him.

"Are all Alaskans like you?" he asked. "You seem so real—not false, not hypocritical. You're very open and honest, and that's rare."

"Oh, I have my fair share of black and white lies. When I was in eighth grade—I was only thirteen or fourteen at the time—I forgot all about writing my report on the saint I had picked for my Confirmation. Well, the very day it was due, I faked a fever and whipped up the report at home."

"You didn't!"

"I did. When mum found out, she took me into the chapel to discuss the issue—probably because she didn't want to scream obscenities at me. My mum always prided herself on having a dutiful, obedient little girl." Adelaide giggled. "I was never the same afterwards. Oh, I was sorry, alright, for what I had done—I mean, I was sorry that I hadn't paid better attention to the due date of the report, but I wasn't sorry for faking the fever. I got the report done, didn't I? And so it was late and I got a bad grade on it, but I wasn't sorry a bit for doing what I had to do to get it done—and so the lesson about paying attention was learned, and I've never had to fake a fever again."

They both laughed. Frodo was enchanted once again. No—that wasn't the right word. He felt happy with her. She was no Elf, no ethereal being of wonder and magic, but a down-to-earth maid of smiles and confidence. She was delightfully refreshing. And Adelaide, laughing with him, thought he was damned handsome and fun to be with. What a remarkable person! And already they got along so well! How convenient!

_For God's sake, this is a storybook character. Just because he's handsome and edible-looking does not mean I can flirt with him. Forget it. I'll only break my poor little heart when I have to go back home._

When they arrived back at Bag End, Frodo immediately found some clothes for Adelaide to change into—Bilbo's mother's old things. Fortunately, Belladonna Took had been a rather fashionable hobbit, and nothing in the Shire was ever really "in" or "out" as far as style went, so Adelaide was well-off in the department of clothes. Frodo went into his room and put on festive attire—as festive as hobbits could get at a birthday bash, anyway. He looked at his complexion in the mirror, and then stretched himself. He could not understand that he was dressing to impress, and that he was really hoping, deep down inside, that she would accept the first dance if he asked her.

Meanwhile, as Adelaide was trying to figure out how a corset worked, Gandalf and Bilbo were sitting on the front-porch swing, smoking their pipes together and chatting about old times. The night air was very peaceful for two old men.

"I'm very surprised at you, Gandalf…or maybe I shouldn't be, knowing you and your surprises anyway…where on earth did you find her?"

"Hm?"

"Oh, don't play that game with me, friend. She's heard of me, and she knows me, but _you _brought her here. Why did you do it? Not that I'm complaining, certainly—she's a nice young thing, and I do believe this is Frodo's first encounter with his match—but why?"

Gandalf was quiet for a minute, puffing away. "I don't know," he murmured. "I stumbled across her path quite by accident, if there are such things in a world with meaning."

"And what will you do with her, after tonight?"

"I don't know that, either. There are about a dozen things I could do with her: take her to Isenguard, take her to another realm of Men, take her to Rivendell, hole her up in the Misty Mountains. But I don't think that'd be best for her. We know so little about her already. She's…she's different."

"Yes, I know. How could she have known of me in a land so far away from Middle Earth?"

"Oh, I have my ideas, but—"

"OUCH! FRODO, YOU'RE PULLING TOO DAMN-FUCKING HARD!"

"Well, Adelaide, this _is_ the way you wear a corset—"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW? YOU'RE A FUCKING GUY!"

"I see she's introducing Frodo to the concept of women's clothing," Gandalf observed. Bilbo chuckled.

"Bless my soul, Frodo's a smart one. He's had little to do with girls, ever, but he's very observant. He'll have the lass tucked away in an outfit before the night's out."

"Hm, she likes him."

"He likes her, too."

"Oh? You can tell?"

"One never knows with Frodo, but if she's gotten him to lace a corset, he MUST be interested, right?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Those two are alike as peas in a pod."

Adelaide came out dusting her skirt off, and looking slightly frazzled. She wriggled her nose in irritation. The corset was laced tight, and for all that she said she didn't want to wear one, she felt obliged to because otherwise the slim costume of the late Mrs. Baggins would never fit. So she felt uncomfortable and cross. But when Frodo offered to escort her, she grudgingly slapped her palm into his, threw an I'll-get-you-for-this look at Gandalf, and trotted off stiffly behind Frodo. Bilbo watched them go, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"He's not going to be able to get back up."


	7. A Very Long Walk

Chapter 6

A Very Long Walk

**This chapter is very special to me because it contains the first meeting between Aragorn and Adelaide. I have a soft spot for Aragorn and have always envisioned him as a sort of John Wayne kind of guy-tough and practical, but a softie and a gentleman when it comes to women. I like to think that Adelaide's relationship with Aragorn is like a father-daughter sort of thing: she's a bit of a firecracker and he tends to douse her fuse sometimes, but is secretly fond of it. **

* * *

The birthday party was, as Adelaide later described it, "One Hell of a Bash." A string of lanterns surrounded the colorful tents erected in a circle around the tables and benches arranged in a horseshoe shape to accommodate a large dancing ground and a little pavilion where musicians played. An "open-air" kitchen had been provided, along with a variety of cooks and bakers who supplied a great feast. Tables groaned under large amounts of food and barrels of ale, for hobbits were partial to a good meal (or more!). Everyone was dressed in their best, and enjoying the fun. There were games for the children, pipes for the elderly, and ale for the middle-aged class of hobbits who laughed uproariously at the antics of the lads and lasses. The dancing was sublime. And Gandalf's fireworks were a complete success. They exploded, one right after the other, sometimes in golden falls and green showers, and other times like small butterflies for the hobbit-children to chase after. Bilbo stood and greeted his guests most handsomely, giving away many gifts, particularly to the little ones, who marveled at their toys and completely forgot about eating.

At first, Adelaide just sat quite upright and stiffly on one of the benches, feeling very shy. She didn't know what to do. She was not a dancer and the line-pattern the hobbits were following confused her. The corset squeezed her so badly she thought she might not eat a single bite for fear of busting right out of the constricting material. And she didn't know a single person, except for Frodo and Bilbo and Gandalf. But Frodo did not let her sit by herself for long. Instead, he took her by the hand and proudly introduced her around to his friends and relatives. There was a tremendous amount of families that were attending: Bagginses, Boffins, Tooks, Brandybucks, Chubbs, Burrowses, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Brockhouses, Goodbodies, Hornblowers, and Proudfoots. Adelaide did not think she could keep them all straight, even when Frodo pointed out the various characteristics that distinguished one family from another. And how many children there were! Adelaide, like many other American girls, had had the experience of babysitting, but these darling little things were so adorable that she had to restrain herself from picking them up and cuddling them. Finally, Frodo offered to show Adelaide a couple of reels, and she shyly told him she preferred to learn by watching, first. So she sat, upright and stiffly, watching Frodo dance, and trying to learn. But when a simple waltz was played, it was Bilbo who dragged her out of hiding and swept her onto the floor. Adelaide had learned how to waltz at school, and so executed the moves flawlessly—with a touch of pride and overbearing joy that her partner was Bilbo Baggins.

She was dragged from his side soon enough by numerous other lads who had made her acquaintance earlier via Frodo's introductions, and pretty soon she had a whole flock of eager teachers who taught her the steps to the different dances. At first she was clumsy and stumbled, and felt terribly mortified at her lack of grace, but nobody seemed to care. On the contrary, they thought she was both hilarious and brave—hilarious because she kept tripping over her feet and brave because she, though red in the face, kept trying to learn. She won instant approval. What fun! What ridiculous, carefree, reckless fun! She felt like the belle of the ball, never left alone for a minute. She was the newcomer, an exotic foreigner who needed the delights of a full-scale welcome. The lasses invited her to play games with them, and the lads sat around her, trying to tempt her with different morsels of food. Merry and Pippin kept dragging her away for a dance every time she sat down to catch her breath. Oh, Eowyn was going to be pea-green with envy when Adelaide told her about this party!

Finally, Adelaide really did have to sit down and rest; the corset was close to crushing her poor ribcage, and she was beginning to feel asthmatic. In the back of her sat a chubby hobbit with a mass of curly yellow hair and soft brown eyes. He was quietly drinking ale, his eyes pasted on the dancing lasses. Finally, Adelaide saw Frodo come up to him and sit down next to him.

"Go on, Sam!" he said. "Ask Rosie for a dance."

The other, Samwise Gamgee (known as Sam to all), looked petrified, and Adelaide could see why. Behind him, dancing with the others, was a beautiful hobbit lass dancing, her pretty red lips parted in a smile, and her white teeth flashing. Her blue corset enhanced and emboldened a blossoming bosom, and her face, sweet in its own nature, was framed by a river of copper ringlets, gleaming in the moonlight. It was all too obvious to see that Sam had a large crush on the lass.

Sam said, "I think I'll go have another ale."

"Oh no you don't!"

Adelaide laughed as Frodo heaved his friend out of his seat and pushed him at Rosie. The hobbit lass caught Sam by the arms and swung him into the fray, laughing happily. Sam's face was the color of a turnip.

"And how about you?"

Adelaide looked up at Frodo, who was holding out his hand and smiling. He had been watching her all evening, even though he hadn't asked her to dance yet. Frodo almost envisioned her that night as some sort of mischievous little sprite. She didn't act like a proper lass, with her skirt drawn up like that, and she leaning forward so far that he could almost see right down the bowling alley, but that didn't matter to him. She was rather charming. Then she pulled a weird face, and he dropped that opinion quickly.

"Nearly had a collision with two hobbits, but I'm okay," she said, and then smiled. "Hey, so much for the first dance. Do you always lead a girl on like that?"

Her teasing surprised him.

"Not always," he said. "But then, I rarely deal with young lasses. You'll have to forgive me this once."

"Oh, I suppose so!" Adelaide pretended to be stern, and then she hopped off the seat. "Is that a request?"

Frodo shrugged and took her waist. He actually hadn't planned on dancing with her for very long, but as soon as he touched her, he never wanted to let go. If her mind was down-to-earth and real, her body matched it to perfection. It was warm and firm (partly due to the corset) beneath his fingers, and her arms around him were very real and warm and sweet. Her face was soft in the lamplight, and her eyes! Frodo looked into them for the first time and almost forgot to dance. Where the gray orbs danced and flashed in sunlight, they melted and sparkled with warmth in the evening. He could not tear his gaze away, until Adelaide nudged him.

"Uh…are we going to dance?"

"Of course," he said, shaking his head. Adelaide felt the air leave her lungs as Frodo pressed her close to his body and waltzed off with her. But the music was not exactly waltzing music—why, this was a rather rustic form of swing-dancing! Adelaide knew about swing-dancing—it was the only kind of dancing (aside from the waltz) that her Catholic college permitted on campus. So when Frodo lifted his arm, she twirled gracefully, admiring the naughty way her skirt flared up. She thought of nothing in particular as her body slid alongside his, or when he hoisted her into the air and let her slide down casually over his chest and finally face-to-face. Adelaide felt herself go warm down south. Goodness, what a feeling to have. It was…well, primal. Sexual. Arousing. Her heartbeat quickened. Adelaide quickly spun around and captured his hands, which rested on her waist.

"Dude, you're good!" Adelaide was impressed.

"You're quite talented yourself," he replied, a little breathless.

"I totally just followed you…didn't do anything on my own."

"Well, you're a very good follower," Frodo laughed for the first time with her, watching her smile, feeling something comfortable and pleased in his heart.

"Yes, isn't she?"

A tall hobbit with sandy-brown hair rudely stepped between Frodo and Adelaide, and took up the girl's hand in his own. Adelaide found herself gazing into a remarkably handsome face with huge brown eyes and a roguish smile. She smiled politely, but Frodo's blood ran cold.

Adelard Took! The handsome young hobbit was certainly related by blood to Frodo, but it was known up and down the Shire that Adelard was no gentlehobbit, and certainly pushed the boundaries that normal young, immature scamps ran. He was Frodo's elder, but Frodo had no respect for him, and, similarly, Adelard despised Frodo as a "smug aristocrat." Instinctively, Frodo's arm tightened around Adelaide's waist, but the young woman was enchanted. Handsome faces were few and far between, and this hobbit looked like a miniature version of Cary Grant.

"Frodo Baggins, how could you not introduce me to your charming young friend?" Adelard purred. "She dances divinely."

"Adelaide, this is Adelard; Adelard, this is Adelaide," Frodo made stiff introductions, and the other hobbit took up Adelaide's hand. Adelaide grinned.

"Hey, our names sound alike! That's cool! Are you the male version of me?"

"I might be," Adelard winked at her. "Although not quite as beautiful as you. Might you favor me with a dance?"

"It's a free country," Adelaide nodded. "Why not?"

Frodo did not know why he suddenly felt like punching Adelard right in the nose besides the fact that he'd been very rude and cut in without the proper etiquette. Adelard had no manners, and though Adelaide didn't seem to have any, either, Frodo was indignant that she should be in the arms of such a scallywag. Shame on him! But how was Adelaide to know about him? Those huge brown eyes simply captured the ladies, as did his charm and roguish misbehavior. He was a shameful, naughty lad, and that made him quite exciting to all the young lasses who thought him the epitome of handsomeness and adventure—at least, as much adventure as hobbits were going to get in the Shire. Frodo angrily stalked off behind a tent to settle himself. He found Bilbo, who grabbed him hurriedly, a wild look in his eye.

"It's the Sackville Bagginses!" he hissed, pointing to his twitching ear. "Quickly, hide!"

They found refuge behind a tent and waited until the danger had passed. The Sackville Bagginses had been wanting to get their hands on Bilbo's property for years, being the next in line to receive it. But Bilbo had cleverly produced an heir, Frodo, who was to inherit all the goodies.

"Whew!" Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, my boy!" He slouched wearily, and Frodo noticed that Bilbo looked old, very old, and he wished he knew what to say or do to make everything alright. For years Bilbo had instructed him, played with him, laughed and cried with him, been a father in every regard. Frodo was very much fond of his cousin.

Bilbo looked at his heir and cracked a bit of a smile. "They'll not hunt me down and get their paws on Bag End yet. There's always been a Baggins living at Bag End under the hill…and there always will be. Someday you'll have to think about an heir for yourself, Frodo, whether you decide to marry or remain a venerable old bachelor like me. But promise me you'll never let the Sackville-Bagginses have our beloved Bag End!"

"Of course not, Bilbo."

"You look anxious, lad. What's the matter with you? Had a dance with the lovely lady from out-of-town?" Bilbo poked Frodo playfully in the ribs. "Gandalf didn't bring her all this way to be bored out of her mind, you know."

"She's hardly that."

"Oho, I see. Met your match, have you? She's not one of these dimpling beauties who flaunts her charms and expects you to respond, and I daresay she doesn't give a hoot whether you think highly of her or not. She's got her own mind, just as you have yours. It's about time someone came along and gave you tit for tat—I'm getting too old to fuss with you or have arguments. I hope she wears you to a frazzle."

"Bilbo, we're not keeping her."

"Who said anything about 'keeping'? Although you ought to, you know. Gandalf certainly doesn't know what to do with her, and Bag End has enough room for a whole harem—I was only kidding!" he chuckled, seeing the astonished look on Frodo's face. "But why not, after all? You'll need someone to keep house for you—heaven knows you can't do it all by yourself. And I think, if you extend the invitation to her, she might enjoy a prolonged visit. After all, she seems to know her own mind, and if she stays, she stays; if she leaves, she leaves, and no harm done either way!"

Frodo was stung. Bilbo had never before made his opinion known that he believed Frodo incapable of taking care of Bag End alone. But the truth that Bilbo could not bring himself to say was that he was truly going to miss Frodo, and he knew that Frodo was going to miss him. He had not brought Frodo to Bag End just because he wanted an heir—but because he wanted and needed company, and Frodo was alike to him in mind and heart and blood. And now he was leaving on a trip by himself for himself, and he had no intentions of bringing Frodo along. Bilbo quivered, looking at his dear nephew.

"You're a good lad, Frodo. I'm…I'm very selfish, you know. Yes, I am…very selfish! I don't know why I took you in after your mother and father died, but it wasn't out of charity. I think it was because, of all my numerous relations—you were the one Baggins that showed any true spirit."

"Bilbo, have you been at the Gaffer's home brew?"

"No…well, yes…yes, I have, b-b-but that's not the point! The point is, Frodo—you'll be alright." He took a comforting swig of his ale. Yes, with or without anyone for company, Frodo would do just fine.

In the tent next to them both, Pippin and Merry were looking in Gandalf's cart for fireworks. They were pranksters at the worst, and valuable friends at the best, but they were mostly known for the worst. Merry hauled up Pippin, and the hobbit dug around until he held up a thin firecracker.

"No, no, the big one!" hissed Merry. Pippin dug around again, and this time brought up a huge dragon firecracker, colored with orange and red. Merry gave a silent hoot of delight.

* * *

Adelaide, meanwhile, was intoxicated by the shameful-but-pleasurable experience of dancing with a lad who evoked very non-chaste feelings inside her body. Twice his hand had smoothed deliberately over her thankfully-skirted posterior, and his eyes flashed so wickedly. At first she felt shy and nervous around a person of such dominant traits, but then the bully in her rose to the surface and she refused to let him have the upper hand. She stared boldly back at him—and instead of making HIM quail and feel small, he met her stares and winked at her. Red-hot rebellion rose up in Adelaide's chest. He wasn't a nice lad at all! Why didn't he behave? She was a stranger, after all, and how dare he be so bold and forward with her? But she did not know then that Adelard had experience with sweeping all kinds of lasses with varied temperaments off their furry feet. He liked the bold gleam in her eye that paralleled his own—she was going to be somewhat of a challenge, and he liked the opportunity to make her interested.

* * *

The two mischievous hobbits had the firecracker in their hands. One of them held it, while the other lit the fuse.

"Done!" he hooted.

"Stick it in the ground!" said the other.

"It is in the ground!"

"Well, don't give it to me!"

"It was your idea!"

The fuse was burning fast as the hobbits frantically tossed the firecracker to one another, like hot potato. The next instant, the tent shot up like a rocket on fire, and something large and red whizzed up to the sky in a blare of sparkles and crackles. The hobbits below turned their attention skyward, clapping their hands in awe and wonder. Adelaide chose this moment to slip from Adelard's grasp and disappear into the crowd in order to go find Frodo again. As she caught up with him and Bilbo, making their way through the crowd, the firework overhead burst in an explosion of flame and glittering light, and the cunning shape of a dragon circled back down over the party. Hobbits screamed and ran everywhere, tripping over each other and tables, and finally dropping to the ground in huddled fear.

"Bilbo, watch out for the dragon!" Frodo grabbed his cousin and pulled him to the ground.

"A dragon? Nonsense, there hasn't been a dragon in these parts for a thousand years…! Oof!"

The dragon just barely missed scorching the elderly hobbit's head and zoomed across the lake, turned a somersault, and exploded with a variety of flower-shaped bursts of light and color. The hobbits cheered and clapped, their fear forgotten.

Merry and Pippin stood up, amazed. They were streaked with the grime and the smoke, and their hair was singed up on end, but their delight was visible. They were in agreement as to what should be done next.

"That was good."

"Let's get another!"

Two hands suddenly shot out of the darkness and caught the hobbits by their ears. Each gave a howl of pain as Gandalf poked his head between them both and twisted them up to meet his eyes. A scowl was on his face, if not amusement and anger.

"Well, well. Meriodoc Brandybuck. And Peregrin Took. I might have known."

A moment later, Gandalf had both of the dirty hobbits cleaning dishes.

Bilbo found Adelaide behind a tent trying to catch her breath. The damned corset was not making life easy, and she wanted it off, but there was a fat chance of doing that at the moment. She tried inching her fingertips beneath her bodice and up beneath the bottom of the corset to try and loosen its grip around her ribcage, but Frodo had laced it just about as tight as it would go. She looked slim and trim, but her head was spinning. Bilbo, however, scared her back into reality.

"There you are!" he said cheerfully. "I just knew that nephew of mine was neglecting you. If he was any younger, I'd wear him out with a willow-cane. My dear, this would be an ample time for you to sing. Everyone is settled very well and filling up the corners! Come with me and I'll introduce you, shall I?"

He grabbed her hand and dragged her off. Adelaide felt her insides turn somersaults. Oh no, she couldn't! She couldn't possibly sing now; she was nervous and out of breath and didn't even know what to sing! Her heart pounded in frantic embarrassment. Oh, if only they'd start calling for the famous after-dinner speech! Why couldn't Bilbo forget about her and do his speech? But Bilbo had every intention of hearing the voice that had been praised by the Elves. Adelaide hoped that mortification might permit her to faint, but that idea was even more embarrassing, and her mind raced. Good God, what was she to do? Bilbo grabbed a horn from a youngster and blew a few notes.

"Hear, hear!" a few people cried, clapping. Perhaps Bilbo was going to give his speech and give their ears a break. He was fond of speaking, and public honors, that hobbit, and his long speeches wearied them. Food and parties were much more in their line of a good time. But they were "filling up the corners" and ready for anything, even a long-winded speech. Instead, to their delight, Bilbo introduced Adelaide—who was scarlet with discomfiture—with very fine words, welcoming her to the Shire and loudly and publicly hoping that she might enjoy her visit and that everyone might make her feel very much at home. _We are pleased and honored by the kindness of your brief visit and hope that you will find the reception of the Shire very much to your liking!_

Adelaide wanted to melt into the floor, not used at all to being the center of so much attention. _I have asked her, as a personal favor, to return the kindness of our hospitality by rendering a song for us from the land she has come from!_

And then the floor was hers. Adelaide was so badly shaken up that she could hardly keep her hands from trembling. She tried to look out over the crowd at the dark shapes of the trees in the distance—and then she had a brilliant idea. Her voice shook, and she swallowed. The music was never going to come from an instrument hardly primed. She closed her eyes and focused, taking a deep breath and placing her feet properly. The corset at least made her stand straight. When she opened her mouth and began the song, the words were wobbly and nervous, but soon began flowing smoothly.

_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.  
Today and tomorrow are yet to be said.  
The chances, the changes are all yours to make.  
The mold of your life is in your hands to break._

_The greatest adventure is there if you're bold.  
Let go of the moment that life makes you hold.  
To measure the meaning can make you delay;  
It's time you stop thinkin' and wasting the day._

_The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave  
Who thinks of a world that is just make-believe  
Will never know passion, will never know pain.  
Who sits by the window will one day see rain._

_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead.  
Today and tomorrow are yet to be said.  
The chances, the changes are all yours to make.  
The mold of your life is in your hands to break._

_The greatest adventure is what lies ahead._

When she finished, there was a thundershower of applause. Adelaide nearly jumped out of her skin. She was not accustomed to this. There was cheering and clapping, and hollering for more among the little people, and Bilbo was sobbing into his hankie. Frodo was not clapping at all; his jaw had dropped, and he was staring at her as if he had never seen her before. Gandalf, too, looked absolutely astounded. Adelaide beamed, satisfied. _HA!_ She thought. _There, you old coot, I just sang your animated theme song about an octave higher than the original. How do you like me now, eh?_

"Why, that was lovely!" Bilbo praised her. "Wherever did you learn that song? I rather liked it. In fact I'd like to put that song into my book! If it's ever sung by bards, that song shall be my theme!"

The hobbits were loudly crying now for Bilbo's speech. If he could get that over, then the party could continue, they could cut the cake, and everyone could drink his good health. There was a tidal wave of applause as Bilbo mounted a stump. He waved for quiet again, and moonlight flashed through his hair as he addressed the crowd.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins! Tooks and Brandybucks! Grubbs, Chubbs, Burrowses! Hornblowers! Bolgers! Bracegirdles! Goodbodies! Brockhouses! Proudfoots—"

"Proud-FEET!" yelled an elderly hobbit with both large, burry feet up on the table.

"Today is my one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday!" Bilbo slurred. Cheers erupted. "And though 111 years is far too short a time to live among such admirable hobbits, I don't know half of you half as well as I like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

The hobbits were silent, trying to work out the sentence. It was unexpected and difficult, and who said that sort of thing at a party, anyway?

"I have things to do," Bilbo almost mumbled the word, and it was plain to see that he was nervous. He kept fingering something in his pocket, and then behind his back. Everyone was looking intently at him, including Adelaide. She wanted to see if he would really disappear. It wasn't as if she didn't believe in the story of the Ring. It was just that she was a little unnerved, and didn't know what to believe anymore.

"I've put this off far too long. I regret to announce that this is the end. I'm leaving now."

His gaze traveled to Frodo. For a moment he looked tenderly at his young cousin. Frodo's eyes widened in confusion and fear. And then, before he could run up and stop him, Bilbo pulled his trick.

"_Good-bye_," said Bilbo, and poof, zingbalabing, he was gone! No smoke, no flash, just poof, gone into thin air! There was a gasp from around the hobbit party body, and Gandalf stood up. Adelaide knew where he would go, but she didn't want to lose Frodo at the same time. She stood up and made her way back to the hobbit. As she went, she felt something brush by her rapidly, but there was no one there.

Frodo was looking around wildly, but when Adelaide caught up to him, he grabbed her hand anxiously. "We have to find him," he said frantically. "He's used his ring again, and there's no telling where he's gone—"

"I think we should try back at Bag End," Adelaide said, pulling one way. Frodo pulled the other.

"If I know Bilbo—why would he go home? He wouldn't leave, would he? But he's mentioned it so often—talked about it for weeks—shut himself away from me so often—"

Adelaide was irritable and tired, and the last thing she needed was a hobbit to start turning on the faucet. "Oh, for God's sake, pull yourself together!" She flung off his hand and tried fiddling again with the corset. "He's not dying, is he? Put your thinking-cap on and try to guess where he is. If he's been thinking about leaving, he's probably up at Bag End getting his things together. Now come _on_!"

* * *

They burst into Bag End as fast as they could, but it was not fast enough. Frodo's cry of _Bilbo_ died on his lips, and he bent down to pick up something shining on the floor. Adelaide saw him clutch the Ring in his small palm. Gandalf sat by the fire, smoking his pipe, his back turned to them. Thick blue smoke swirled up from his pipe, and he muttered in a low, thoughtful, broken monologue, whispering words and names as if pondering something deep in his head. Adelaide tried to remember everything she had read. The events of the story did not feel very clear to her, though she understood the basic outline of Tolkien's masterpiece, and would have helpfully supplied information if she could. But she stood to one side. Perhaps this was not the best time to say anything.

"He's gone, isn't he?" whispered Frodo. He walked over to Gandalf, Adelaide trailing behind. "He talked about it for a long time. I never thought he'd really do it." He came up to the wizard's side, unmindful of the frightening atmosphere. "Gandalf?"

The wizard turned and looked up at him and smiled. Then he saw the Ring in Frodo's hand, and his face darkened. A great shiver seemed to pass through the wizard's body. "Hm! Bilbo's Ring!" he said. "He's gone to stay with the Elves. He's left you Bag End." Quick as lightning, the wizard held out an envelope, and Frodo slipped the Ring inside. The wizard folded the paper up and stamped it up. "And all his possessions." He handed Frodo the envelope. "The ring is yours, now! Put it somewhere out of sight!"

Then the wizard got up. He moved quickly to grab his hat and staff without a word of explanation.

"Where are you going?" Frodo asked, his face turning into panic.

"I have some things that I must see to!"

"What things?"

"Questions. Questions that must be answered!" Gandalf moved with deliberateness, and his voice was almost gruff, as if he were upset with the annoying hobbit nipping at his back. Adelaide rushed after them.

"HEY! What about me?"

"But Gandalf, you've only just arrived! I don't understand!"

"Neither do I," said Gandalf.

"Gandalf, what about ME?" Adelaide asked. "Are you taking me with you?"

"No," the wizard responded shortly. "You stay here with Frodo and behave yourself."

"WHAT? No! Hold on, you can't do that to me! Who _does_ that? When do I get to go home...Gandalf?"

The wizard wasn't listening to a damn thing she was saying! He was leaning in close to Frodo in a conversation, but the most she heard was the last part: "Keep it secret. Keep it safe." He patted Frodo's shoulder and left for the door. Adelaide nearly forgot to hail him, but by the time she thought of it, the wizard was gone. She stood, mouth agape, on the smooth floor of the hobbit hole. For a moment, the thought took a while to register: Gandalf was leaving her for God only knew how many years in a strange land with a strange people, on her own. She was only three feet and four inches tall, and the thought of going anywhere else at that height was daunting—suppose she did go back to America; how was she going to handle being the only dwarf at college? She had to stay put; she had nowhere else to go; she was trapped like a rabbit in a snare, and completely at the mercy of a small race of people who believed in corsets and six meals a day and—

Frodo came up and touched her arm. The news of Bilbo's departure and Gandalf's sudden leaving was shocking, but at least he was still in a land he knew and loved; he could cope with the changes. Adelaide, for all her flexibility and military background, did not feel quite up to the task at the moment. She had placed her hope in Gandalf, and he had run out on her! Tears filled her eyes. Oh, and there was Frodo, looking so damn hurt and confused—how could he feel that way when he at least had a real home and friends and a country he understood and knew inside and out? His loss was not as great as hers; it wasn't fair! Adelaide burned with unjust hatred. She couldn't help it. He didn't know, he didn't understand! So when Frodo turned helplessly to her, unsure of the first steps to take, the tears came spilling from her eyes because she did not know how to help him, nor did she want to. He deserved to be helpless, the stupid idiot!

"There's no need to clean up tonight," Frodo finally said, with an effort. "We'll do that tomorrow. I have to see my guests off, Adelaide…and then I'll come back and see what we can do about making you feel at home."

At home? Ha, that was a joke! Adelaide slumped down into the bench by the door and tried to hold back her tears. But when Frodo slipped out of the hole, she began to cry without restraint. Adelaide needed a good cry. Things were crashing about her feet, and she didn't even know why. She wanted to go home. When Frodo came back inside, Adelaide had worked herself into a fine temper. The hobbit offered her some tea, but the young woman stood up angrily, shoved him aside, and marched out of the door.

Frodo watched her go in shock. Good heavens, was EVERYONE going to walk out on him tonight? He felt miserable. Perhaps it was best that she took a walk to clear her head, for it was obvious that something was upsetting her. He didn't understand why she was ruffling her feathers so badly at Gandalf's departure. She had seemed so interested and excited about his earlier invitation to stay with him at Bag End for a bit. It made him wonder whether or not she was telling the full truth about herself, for if she was as independent and confident as she claimed, why did she have to depend on Gandalf to take her anywhere? Frodo was very confused. And so the responsibility of home-ownership fell heavily on his shoulders all at once.

* * *

Adelaide stormed off with every intention of getting as far away from Hobbiton and the rest of the Shire as she possibly could, though her knowledge of how expansive the land was happened to be very limited. The full moon gave her footsteps enough light to work with.

She finally collapsed beside the road by a cornfield, and she had another good cry. Determination and frustration mingled in her heart, and though her practical sense told her to turn around and march her ass right back to Bag End, she was furious and refused. She never wanted to look at those munchkins ever again! Especially Frodo! Damn him for…for…well, Adelaide could not think exactly why she should be mad at him or want to hurt him, but anyway, what would he care if she ran away and never came back? He was a stupid storybook character. She had no part in his life. Why should she bother? Her stubbornness won out, and she kept going. At last, when she could stand it no longer, she filtered into the cornfields, undressed, and literally tore the corset off, her fingers managing to undo the lacings behind her back. She struggled to put the other clothes on.

"Why can't I go home?" she asked a cornstalk, as if it had the answer. It only rustled in the breeze. Tired and angry, she curled up and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning Adelaide continued to follow the road that she knew to be the East Road because of a sign that was posted. The morning was chilly, but the afternoon warmed up, and Adelaide continued to walk barefoot. There is something about the natural beauty of a day and the pleasure in walking barefoot through grass and along dusty roads that soothes and heals all aches and pains of a broken heart, and soon Adelaide found herself very much sorry that she had run away from Bag End. But she did not want to go back—not yet, anyway. She felt free as a bird and content with walking wherever she pleased without having to worry about moose or bears or irritated Elves. And what beautiful views! Such gorgeous landscaping she had seen from the perch on Gandalf's cart as they entered the Shire, but now she stretched out her hands and fingered the wildflowers and trees, inhaling the sweet air and smiling at the antics of birds and squirrels. Yes, she wanted to see how far she could travel on foot, to go off-road and discover the Shire for herself without an escort or tour-guide. That was the REAL way to go on vacations—to explore and discover everything for yourself without someone pointing out the obvious ("We are now traveling through Rome, and on your left you can see the Coliseum…").

Adelaide eventually broke from the East Road and went cross-country. Her legs were hiking legs, used to long stretches of terrain without pause or break. There were signs here and there to mark the roadways or little towns, and she paid close attention. She had no idea of the direction she was heading, but she didn't care, so long as she was off on her own. For lunch she picked apples from a nearby orchard and munched the delicious white flesh of the ripe fruit as she walked along. Her mind was full of lush, poetical descriptions of everything she saw, and she wished she WAS writing a book on exotic lands—the Shire would have been top of the list.

On the third day of her travels, Adelaide crossed the road leading to Woodhall and ventured into the forest of the Greenhill Country, known as Woody End. Knowing how forests were labyrinths and traps for unsuspecting wayfarers without maps or compasses or a GPS, Adelaide decided that she ought to turn around and go back, and try to go home to Bag End. Imagining Frodo's worry on her behalf made her feel a little guilty. But when she couldn't find the road again, she began to feel very nervous indeed. Not again! But no, this was still the Shire, and she was lost in Woody End. Oh, damn it all! Adelaide cursed herself for being so stupid. What was worse was the fact that the forest looked so incredibly BIG. Trees that she knew to be relatively small were now the size of California Redwoods, and if a Redwood _had_ been in the area, she wouldn't have known exactly what to make of that. Adelaide swallowed. So this was what it felt like to be a midget. But it wouldn't do to fuss. She was in familiar territory—at least, it was still the Shire, surely!—and if she kept walking she was bound to come to the edge of the forest where she could find help. Then she could go back to Bag End, sit down with Frodo, tell him the truth about how the situation stood, and discern her next move. No way was she going to sit and rot in a hobbit hole some millions of miles away from human civilization. Even if there was the slightest chance of getting back to her world, she wanted to take it.

As she paused to bend down and pick a nasty thorn out of her foot (she was still barefoot), Adelaide thought she heard a movement in the bushes behind her. Evening was finally falling, and she still had not found her way out of the forest. But the darkness did not scare her so much as being alone. She continued to walk on in hopes of perhaps finding shelter.

She had only gone several paces when the underbrush rustled again, and she heard the quick, light footsteps of someone behind her. It was not an animal—if human or hobbit, she prayed it wasn't male. However, a female certainly wouldn't be roaming the forests—unless it was Adelaide. She gave a small cry of terror and started running, ignoring the pain shooting through her little foot.

Suddenly, and without warning, a hand closed over her mouth, and another wrapped quickly and tightly over her arms, pinning them to her sides. Adelaide gave a muffled scream of alarm and kicked out, struggling to get away. But the arms that held her were strong and secure, and she gained not an inch. Instead, the man, or whatever it was that held her, toppled her to the ground and lay on top of her, stifling her cries.

"Be silent, or be slain. Who are you who come into the woods at night?"

It was the voice of a man. He released her mouth slightly, and she spit out loose grit and the taste of leather.

"I'm lost!"

The man immediately released his hold and backed away from her. Adelaide lay on the ground, tears streaking down her cheeks and sniffling—she figured she looked awful. Finally, she sat up, brushed hair and leaves out of her face, and faced the man with glistening eyes and trembling lip. He was a dishevled-looking man with the grimy appearance of a thief and beggar, with stubble still on his chin, unwashed hair, rags upon his body, and shocking blue eyes. Nevertheless, he carried a sword and dagger, and there was a gold ring with twin snakes upon his finger. He stared at Adelaide in surprise, taking her measure swiftly.

"A lass, here in the forest…but you are no Halfling!"

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Are you an Elf?"

"Nay." The man stared at her long and hard. "What brings you into the forest, maid? At this time of night, too? You say you are lost."

"I _am_ lost."

"Where is your home, little one?"

"Ala—Bag End," Adelaide gritted her teeth. "In Hobbiton."

"Hobbiton! Little lass, you've come a fair distance. Have you kinfolk there?"

"That's none of your fucking business."

The man drew a breath, and Adelaide could have bitten her quick tongue. When the man spoke again, his voice was kinder, gentler.

"Madam, I salute your bravery. But it will not shield you from deadly opponents. Were I such, you could find yourself in deep trouble. As it is, I am a friend."

"Can you help me?"

"You trust me so quickly? You have not asked for my name, nor I for yours."

"I don't give my name out to strangers," Adelaide said calmly. "And I don't want yours."

"Yet you are quick to trust."

"You haven't raped me yet." Adelaide needed to trust someone, and she was willing to put her faith in a man who didn't cheer at the sight of a damsel in distress.

"Your scope is broad, little maid. And yet you still refuse to give your name to me. You have some experience in dealing with strangers, I take it. No hobbit! But no child, either. A mystery, and no mistake. Now, what shall I do with you?"

"You're going to help me get out of the forest," Adelaide snapped. "Because what else are you going to do? Kidnap me? I'll scream so loud I'll break your fucking eardrums. Rape me? You try it and I'll shove that knife of yours up your balls. Kill me? I'll…I'll…I'll come back and haunt you!"

"Heaven forbid it, madam; there's enough trouble in a Ranger's life without ghosts or broken eardrums or castration. Very well, supposing I do help you out of the forest. Do you know where you're going?"

"That'll be none of your—of course I can find my own way! I'll get along just fine, thank you very much!"

"I suppose since you get lost in forests, you shan't get lost anywhere else."

"Oh, you…! Now you're being rude and hateful. Knock it off! So what if I don't know the way home? I can stop and ask for directions. And the people I ask will be a lot nicer than you."

"You wound me, madam, and after all your talk of trusting me."

"Well, while you're jabbering my ear off, it's getting darker, and the longer we wait to get out of here, the darker it'll be."

"And just what did you have in mind to do when you got out of the forest? Hunker down by a tree, I suppose, and make yourself comfortable in between the tree-roots?"

"It's none of your damn business where I decide to camp, and I'm certainly not going to waste my time camping with you."

"Brave little soldier. But it's not a bit practical, you know. You ought to come with me and I'll see you sleep soundly tonight with food in your stomach and a blanket across your back. We need not ask or answer questions of each other. But a morning start would be better for finding your way home, do you not agree?"

Adelaide did not know who this stranger was, but he made perfect sense. She wanted to hurry up and get out of the forest so they could part ways quickly, but he had a point. Why not wait until morning, when all was clear and bright, and she could make a good start of it? One more day in the great outdoors wasn't going to kill her. And think, she could actually have something decent to eat besides apples! So she nodded and permitted the stranger to carry her back to his campsite. It was neatly arranged at the base of a large tree, and here the man had made his campfire and was roasting some kind of meat on a spit. He also had a handkerchief of blackberries and a few forest-grown vegetables, which he ate raw. Just to show him that she wasn't afraid to eat raw vegetables either, Adelaide sat gnawing on a carrot and stared into the flames, though the taste was dirty and bitter. The man wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and folded up his cloak for a pillow. As Adelaide put her head down, she watched as the man took out a whetstone and began sharpening the blade of his sword. How casual and at-ease he looked, like a very rugged Harrison Ford! Indiana Jones, that's who this stranger reminded her of. Why, put the hat on his head and a whip in his hand, and the John Williams' music just might start playing!

Adelaide fell asleep very content.

_That night, she dreamed. _

_A forest, a long dark forest ahead of her, and she was running into it, running, and she did not know how she was running, but her mind was conscious of it, and she kept a steady run. The forest trees were scattered in front of her, behind her, and to the side; it was like a giant maze of darkness layered with objects that hindered her progress at times. If she stopped herself even for a moment, a new pathway opened through the forest, and she turned to take it. But O! The first door she took led her down a path of sweet-smelling flowers and birds, but it was still dark, and she could taste, touch, hear, and smell, but her sense of sight was deprived. The next door opened to be frightening; there was a sense of running nowhere, and the next door that opened made her trip and fall many times. Creatures reached out to grab her, and there was the sound of a battle behind her and around her, but she pressed on forward, gasping and crying. _

_And then, as she pushed through another door, pain seized her, she was racked with fits of coughing, and then as she doubled over, she fell to the forest floor and squeezed her eyes shut. There the hands of a thousand demons pulled at her, and she was filled with despair. Her legs were tired; her lungs were weak, and she was nearing the end. She felt as if she would not get out of that dreadful forest. And then a voice spoke to her, a voice so gentle, so loving and kind, that she could not resist it, and she went to it with trembling hands and a willing spirit._

"_It is finished. And now, let this not be the end, but the beginning. In the third year go to the sea and find the passage home. Before this, maid, thou shalt remain for three-year-short of score years within the peace-lands, and then thou shalt travel. Thou shalt go in fear of darkness, and thou shalt first go to the Firstborn to declare thy power; thou shalt go next into the chasm of darkness and the forest of dreams. Thou shalt return to mankind as their beacon of hope, and then at last, thou shalt meet the death of thyself. Traitor shall kill traitor, and the sweetness shall bind itself to sweetness. The love shall sprout and bloom, its roots laid in a foundation of blood. And thou shalt become the wedded bride unto a husband more noble than ye know. Then, only then, shalt thou taste the fruits of bitterness, and though the darkness has passed, the light is fading, and thou shalt go beyond the towers to the sea...and there shalt thou find thy passage home."_

In the morning, she watched as the stranger quickly erased all evidence of his campsite. Then he offered to carry her pig-a-back out of the forest. Adelaide almost refused before she realized that she hadn't been pig-a-back since she was twelve years old—and the thrill of a ride was very tempting. So she clutched onto the man around his neck, and he started off through the forest. Every so once in a while he bounced her, and she sniffed disdainfully. Honestly, a grown man, playing pig-a-back and horsy on top of that!

"Don't you sniff, madam," said the man. "You enjoy being carried around as much as I enjoy the pleasure of carrying you, so the entertainment is not one-sided."

"Mind your own business."

"I am minding it—you happen to be my business, since you have asked for help and there are a thousand other things I could be doing, more useful things, anyway."

"You don't think that helping a damsel in distress is useful?"

"Madam, you were NOT in distress. Any little girl with a mind of her own is never in distress."

"Ha! That's a joke. And so why did you even bother to lend a helping hand?"

"Why not? A Ranger's life is sometimes very lonely. A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship. I do have a rascally look, have I not? And it was a joy to find a trusting soul in such a tiny woman. Little body, big heart, and broad mind. I do wish you would tell me your name."

"Well, you haven't told me yours yet, so why should I? And anyway, I'm NOT this short in real life. A wizard shrunk me down to hobbit-size so I could stay—"

"Madam, your trust is too swiftly given, though I much appreciate it. But perhaps you ought not say anything."

"Oh, I'm tired of being secretive," Adelaide said crossly.

"You ought to have a care! Did you not know that there is abroad in Middle Earth, at this very moment, a foreigner who is spoken of darkly amongst the Elves and the very powerful and wise? Word of the foreigner has stretched quite abroad, for they say he or she spent some time in Rohan, so of course all of the Southeastern and Southwestern lands are aware of his or her presence, as well as those territories occupied by Elves."

"Regular Elven grapevine, huh?"

"So for all you know, I could be deceiving you with my charm."

"Oh, please. Gregory Peck you're not."

"Who?"

"You're not a good-looking man."

"You slight me, madam, and yet you trust me. I suppose if I'd looked fair and spoken foul, you'd not have trusted me."

"Huh, trust is a matter of personal opinion and intuition. If I was to tell you that my name is Adelaide Edessa and that Gandalf the wizard told me to stay in the Shire at Bag End, then I trust you well enough to sit and smoke that information in your pipe 'cause you haven't got anything better to do with it!"

"I am honored by your confidence and insulted by your insinuation that I'd have 'nothing better to do with it.' But you should be a little more cautious. These are darker times that we live in."

"Don't be depressing," she said shortly. "Pessimistic-minded people never won the Olympics."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Dare I ask if you are the foreigner?"

"You figure it out, Sherlock. Do I talk like I was born and bred around here?"

"Clever girl. If I had a hat, I would take it off to you."

"You could stop bouncing me. I'm twenty-three years old, and too old to play horsy."

"But not too old for pig-a-back, am I right?"

"Oh, shut up. How much further are we from getting out of here? I didn't realize I'd wandered so far in."

"Most forests invite travelers and rarely let them back out. You were lucky you came across me. We're about a mile off from Woodhall. Someone will take you back to Hobbiton from there. But I'm afraid I must play truant and leave you at the edge of the forest. You see, we Rangers are silent, roaming folk who go abroad in the wild and are distrusted by the little people because we are so…er, rugged-looking. They'll accept you well-enough, I gather, for you're just their height. But my welcome would be far from warm. So you'll excuse me if I dump you on the doorstep and leave."

"I suppose I can forgive you that, since you're being so nice to take me out of the forest." Adelaide thought briefly about Frodo. She wondered if he would be very disappointed to have her back—after all, she'd created quite a scene before running out on him, as if Gandalf and Bilbo's departures hadn't been enough! But who cared if Frodo was pleased with her or not? She had to have a place to stay, and it might as well be the Shire. The situation could have been a lot worse. Adelaide felt stronger for having her cry and long hike, and then meeting someone so practical and—well, amusing. This stranger certainly was a lucky find. Her military upbringing came back to her in a flood, and she knew precisely what she was going to do—settle in as best she could and be ready at the drop of a dime to leave when the time came!

The stranger was as good as his word. He left her at the edge of the forest by the town of Woodhall with a very low bow and a courtesy-kiss upon her hand. "By the way," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "You may know me, madam, as Strider."


	8. Living in Munchkinland

Chapter 7

Living in Munchkinland

**I thought this chapter was very important because, as I was mucking through my edits, I suddenly realized that I had made life far too easy for Adelaide. When you sit down and think about it, the life of a hobbit is certainly filled with joy and cheer, but there has GOT to be a lot of hard work involved, particularly since we post-moderns are used to going out to the grocery store and buying our bread and butter. Hobbits would have had to make everything, including their own clothes—and that kind of a life wouldn't be easy for a post-modern girl to adapt to—it would take a couple of years, a lot of swearing, sweat, blood, and tears. But thankfully, most Americans have the gift of perseverance.**

* * *

There was, luckily, a wagon going into Hobbiton from Woodhall that very day, though the driver made it very clear that he had stops to make along the way, and Hobbiton would not be reached for another week or so. Adelaide did not care. She climbed into the back of the wagon, loaded with golden hay, and let her feet rest as the driver pulled out of Woodhall and began making his way to Buckland and the East Road. Adelaide slept for the majority of the trip, getting out to stretch her legs at various destinations and taking lunch with the driver when he politely offered. And so they passed through Whitfurrows and Frogmorton within the space of three days, and in another two they were in Bywater. At the end of the week they pulled into Hobbiton, and Adelaide walked from the market all the way up to the Hill where Bag End sat. She had been away for two weeks on a whim!

She composed herself before knocking. She must look natural, even though her hair was unwashed, there was hay clinging to her skirt, and she probably smelled like a campfire. When she did knock, there was a long pause before the door finally opened.

Frodo almost did a faint. When Adelaide had gone off in a huff, he had believed she would come back that same evening after running off a bit of steam, but when she did not come back after two days, he had been around Hobbiton and Bywater asking after Adelaide. The ones who had seen her claimed that she had taken the East Road towards Buckland, and Frodo feared instantly that she might have intended to walk out of the Shire altogether and go track down Gandalf. He had even hopped into a cart and driven after her, but after Frogmorton nothing more was heard of her, and one elderly hobbit made the claim that she had indeed crossed over into Buckland. Frodo had thrown up his hands in frustration. If the lass didn't want to live at Bag End, that was fine with him! She would be treated well at Brandy Hall, and if anyone recognized her from Bilbo's party, they might escort her gently back to Hobbiton. It did not occur to Frodo that Adelaide would come back on her own accord. But when he saw her standing on his doorstep, he couldn't help feeling grateful…and very, very angry.

"Well, come in!" he snapped, his relief overshadowed by his anger at all the fuss she'd caused. Adelaide's head jerked up.

"What's your problem?"

"_My_ problem?" Frodo exclaimed angrily. "_My_ problem! Don't you think it's _your_ problem, Adelaide? Here Gandalf gives me a job to do, and you don't even give me time to perform it before running off into the blue without a word of why or where, into a strange place you know nothing about, in the dark, without a guide! And you were gone…I didn't know where to start looking. How do you expect me to take care of you?"

"Now just a minute," said Adelaide angrily, matching his temper. "I am _not_ your ward. Gandalf never said I was, and no one else said so, either. I am _not_ here to be scolded like a child, as if I were caught stealing. I may be younger than you, but I know how to conduct myself. So lay off."

"I will not," Frodo scolded. "You had no right to go off the way you did. You scared me half to death; I didn't know what to think. I ran all over Hobbiton looking for you, only to hear that you'd taken the road to Buckland…and I went as far as Frogmorton…aren't you ashamed? I have more important things to do than run around looking for naughty lasses who run away from home!"

"This is NOT my home," Adelaide said sharply. "And you did NOT have to run all over creation looking for me, either. Didn't I tell you I was on my own? Can't you trust me to do what's right for myself?"

"Not a bit of it. Your idea of what's right for yourself is hardly proper. As you are my guest, I am expected to take care of you, and you flung that responsibility right back in my face, as if my duty was not important to you! How could you dare think so selfishly? Do you not realize that I worried for you? People have taken pains to find out if you were still alive and safe, and I have hardly been able to sleep…what would Gandalf have said if he came back and found you missing? I want to take care of you, and as I am your elder in these matters, you had better do as I see fit, and don't run away again! You barely know the Shire, and it would be dangerous for you to run amok."

"I wasn't running amok. I took a very long walk to clear my head and think things over."

"Your behavior was still childish and unacceptable," Frodo snapped. Adelaide pursed her lips shut and took the scolding calmly. Let him bitch and complain! She wasn't in the wrong, she was sure.

"Well, I'm sorry for stirring up all that drama! But you'd be mad, too, if you were just minding your own business and then suddenly you're facing down Elves, getting packed off to somewhere you don't even know or understand, getting introduced to a whole bunch of people and a new society, then getting kicked out and wandering and meeting wizards and hobbits all in the space of what seems like only a week...I feel like I've been through a time warp, or something."

"That's another thing we have to discuss," Frodo said, crossing his arms. "I think you have a story to tell me, and you didn't tell it truthfully the first time around. But let me help you settle yourself first. You look terrible, and you must be very hungry."

A bath! Adelaide had gone for so long without hot water and the cleansing smell of lilac soap, soft white towels, and homemade shampoo. The grit and grime and grease and everything else came off her body, and she shaved every inch of herself as best she could using the shards of a pocket-mirror that Frodo lent her. She washed herself twice before she was satisfied, and then, wrapped in a dressing-gown, she sat down at the table and ate every crumb offered: eggs, sausage, tomatoes, white bread, wheat bread, cheese, and milk. When she pushed her third plate away and sighed contentedly, Frodo led her to one of Bag End's many rooms. It was apparently Bilbo's old room, but Frodo had cleaned it out, and set it nice and neat for his female guest. Adelaide shyly entered. The bed was neatly made (apparently aired, too) and the carpet was a soft green color. There was a little desk with a pen and paper, and a small closet. In this closet, Frodo had hung some dresses.

"They're from my mother, and Bilbo's mother," he said softly. "I thought…well, I thought you might like them. I really don't know your size, but they looked about right."

Adelaide suddenly laughed. Mr. Tolkien had made characters so real they actually asked a woman about her dress size.

"That's sweet of you," she said kindly. "Did you really do all this for me?"

"Yes, I did," he said, sulking. "But you never came back until this morning, and now you say you don't want to be here, so all my efforts were wasted."

"I don't think they were," said Adelaide. "I mean, where the hell would I go?"

That sounded much more like a sane Adelaide, and for some reason, Fodo felt better. He relaxed and then led Adelaide into the "sitting room." It was a small room with an arched ceiling of four panels sweeping together in a clover-shape, upheld by oak beams. From the center there hung a small lamp fixture upon which candles could be lit. The light spread out over a smattering of comfortable chairs, one small couch, and tables laden with books, papers, and inkwells, the carpet littered with pens, more papers, half-eaten food, tea-cups, pipes, and various assortments of odds and ends here and there. Adelaide felt awkward amid all the junk. God, the place needed a good cleaning and organizing. Maybe it was just as well she was staying—she'd get the place decently settled so you'd never know a bachelor was living there! Frodo noticed her looking around and smiled.

"It isn't much, but it's home. I'm sorry it's so messy. I would have had it settled much nicer except that…well, I wasn't expecting a guest."

She twitched her nose impatiently. The world wasn't going to function properly until Bag End looked clean again. But she didn't say anything, and Frodo took her silence as feminine docility. He swelled, proud of himself for assessing the situation, taking control, and handling it with all the grace of a masculine mind. He bade her to take a seat, and then took one for his own. He took a pipe, filled it, and began a little smoke. Adelaide watched him in fascination.

"Can you blow smoke rings?"

He laughed. "Bilbo never taught me," he said. "And I've tried before, but I can't do it. It is an art that is only managed by people who try again and again, and I am not that sort of person."

"I think you are," she remarked.

"Oh? What makes you think that?"

"Feminine intuition. If you hang around a girl long enough, you'll understand what I mean."

"I see. Well, I haven't any sisters, my mum is deceased, and all my feminine relatives live away from me."

"That's too bad. You're an only child?"

He nodded. There was an awkward silence, and then Frodo took a deep breath. "So."

"So."

"The story," he said. "Yours, I mean. Who are you, where are you from, and why are you here?"

Adelaide sighed and dove in. She was truthful. She explained about her home and the incidents that had taken place right up to the moment she had landed a flat tire and discovered that something was funny about her surroundings. Then she spoke of the Elves and the confusion and arguments, and of Lindir who took her all the way to Edoras, and the friends she made there, and what had driven her away. Then she spoke of Gandalf's intervention and how he had invited her to come with him to the Shire. How she had been afraid to say anything besides the truth because it seemed impossible and unreal. The one thing she was hesitant to speak of, however, was how she had known of Bilbo. She swallowed hard. _He's not ready for that truth_, she thought. _Would he believe me if I told him that a man from my Primary World invented hobbits?_ She fudged a little and told Frodo that Gandalf had spoken of Bilbo so well on the journey that she had been very eager to meet him. That explanation seemed to satisfy the hobbit, and Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. There seriously was no need to go around proclaiming to this world that a book about them sold for about $20 at Barnes and Noble.

Frodo, for his part, was astonished at Adelaide's tale, and he immediately felt sorry for having been so rude. He could hardly believe that she came from an entirely different world by pure accident, but the concept was remarkably thrilling. To think that he, Frodo Baggins, was host to a foreigner from a completely different world and time! And he—he, Frodo Baggins!—now he had a chance to make her feel at home, to comfort her and try and make things comfortable for her since the shock must have been dreadful. Imagine being swept off your feet from everything you knew as familiar and to be thrust into a whirlwind of entirely new faces, customs, cultures, languages, and traditions! Why, it made his head hurt just to think about it. After all she had gone through! Well, now she could settle down in the Shire for a bit and not have to worry about grouchy Elves, mean-spirited councilors, or…or anything else that might try to harm her. He felt very protective of her, and it made him feel about a hundred feet tall. He had told Bilbo, "We're not keeping her!" Now, however, he felt that nothing else would work but to have her stay at Bag End. And what fun! It wasn't every bachelor who kept a pretty lass in his home!

"Tell me about yourself," Adelaide said suddenly.

"Going to take notes?"

"Oh, you are _funny_."

Frodo sucked on his pipe and tried to blow a smoke-ring. He sighed at the silly little blob that came out. "I was born in 1368—by Shire reckoning, that is. My father's name was Drogo, and my mother's was Primula. She, of course, was a Brandybuck, and everyone wondered why Drogo Baggins—Bilbo's second cousin—went off to find a wife among those in Buckland because, you know, folk over there are reputed to be quite queer, and not exactly normal. But he fell in love with Primula." Frodo paused. "I was about nine or ten when my parents drowned in a boating accident. No one knows exactly how it happened, except that boats are quite tricky to manage, and my parents knew almost nothing about such a relaxing and romantic pastime. I remember my mother as a dark-haired lass. She always wore violet-colored costumes; my father used to call her his Little Shy-Violet. My father always wore green and yellow. I loved to play with his yellow waistcoat, I remember. I would put in on, and then my father would laugh, and tell me what a fine lad I was. He had large, crystal clear eyes." He smiled. "Everyone tells me that I look like my mother," he said. "I have her dark hair and her spirit. She was a gentle thing, and I was told she was very well loved among the hobbits. When she was expecting me, everyone told her that I would be a lass, and that I would look like her. Well, I turned out to be a lad, and then everyone was slightly disappointed.

"Well, anyhow, I don't remember much after that. After they died, I was taken to Brandy Hall. What a warren! It was so noisy. So many children, so many relatives coming in and out! I was soft-spoken. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed with my lovely feather pillow, and read a book. I loved to read. I still enjoy it." He paused again. "But they didn't—I mean, the other children at Brandybuck Hall—they didn't like my 'odd' habits. They teased me for not engaging in the same sports they loved, such as wrestling. There were several violent tussles, I remember, and whenever they encouraged me to apply myself, nothing ever came of it but a black eye and smarting head. When Bilbo adopted me, I was so happy. I was twelve years old then, and Bilbo told me, 'You'd better come and live with me, Frodo my lad, and we'll celebrate our birthdays together comfortably.' He taught me my numbers and letters and how to read maps, and we'd go out exploring the Shire often enough. Bilbo quite spoiled me," Frodo admitted. "But he taught me to love my home and everything in it. And so here you see me as I am today, with Bag End as my own, and a pretty lass to go with it," his eyes widened as he suddenly realized his mistake. But Adelaide just laughed casually.

"I'm not going to stay here with you forever! Just until I can get back home."

Frodo nodded. "We'll get along all right, I expect," he said smoothly. "After all, I think we rather do make good friends, Adelaide. But I would like to hear about YOU and your family, and your home!"

"I've already told you all about Alaska," Adelaide laughed. "But my family…hm, let me think. Well, for starters, I'm the descendant of Polish and Czechoslovakian immigrants. Do you have some paper and a pen? I'll do a map for you."

Frodo eagerly fetched the materials and watched with interest as Adelaide sketched Europe and America. She pointed out the countries of her ancestors and explained that the majority of them had been hardworking peasants before coming to America like so many others in search of a better life. Her great-grandparents worked in the steel mills and the farmlands of America's heartland; they worked for stores and schools and did whatever it took to stay alive, raise their children, and remain decent, honest citizens. "My great-grandfather on my mother's side was in the Navy," she went on. "He worked for the government during World War I. His son, my grandfather, joined the Air Force for WWII. On my mother's side I have one biological uncle and three biological aunts. They all married and had children, so I have…" Adelaide counted. "I have nine cousins on my mother's side. My father's side, on the other hand, came from England back in the 1700's and were rovers. They traveled everywhere, picking up odd jobs here and there. They settled in the state of Nebraska. My father has a sister and two brothers—well, one brother now. The other died last year of kidney-failure.

"Why my mum married my dad, I really don't know. She wanted to go be a nun—you know, join a cloister and live a chaste life dedicated to God. And I hardly think my roly-poly father swept her off her feet. I've asked them both a million times what they were thinking, and they're still not quite sure." Adelaide went on to explain about her siblings—those dead and those living—and her life as a military child. "So I've traveled," she said. "But when daddy retired, we decided to stay in Alaska. I've lived there for eight years."

Frodo could not help but be fascinated. He had never heard of such things as steel-mills and the Navy and convents. Adelaide's world seemed brutally realistic, full of hardships and trials. But Adelaide swept his protests off to one side with a wave of her hand.

"My world spoils me with opportunities. America is so much more fortunate than other countries." She let it lie there. No sense in getting into the riches that America provided. That story would keep. Frodo felt that his ward was getting sleepy. She was yawning and blinking owlishly.

He stood.

"I would be delighted to have you stay as long as you want," he offered kindly. "I'm sure Bag End will provide you a snug home for the time being. Is there anything you require?"

"I hate eggplant," Adelaide announced. "I'm arachnophobic, asthmatic, and allergic to cats. But that's all I can think of, for the moment, as far as roommate disappointments go."

"What's ara—arach—"

"Arachnophobia. Fear of spiders. I swear to God, if you even think about teasing me with anything that even remotely resembles a spider, I will come after you with a butcher knife."

Frodo swallowed. "I wouldn't tease you, Adelaide. It's unkind, and not proper for a host with his guest."

"I just thought you should know what would happen. And now, suppose I hear the terms of our contract. You're not putting up with me for nothing, I guess."

Frodo smiled. "Well, Adelaide, if you're to be staying, I'll be happy to let you have anything you'd like. We in the Shire are simple folk, and haven't much to offer, but I'm sure we can help you in some way. But since you are to be staying, naturally there must be some equality about this place. You see that the place is rather unkempt, and I'm a very busy hobbit. If you really wish to stay, I must ask that you earn your wages and keep house for me. It would just include making the meals, dusting and sweeping, and...oh, everything that a normal hobbit lass would do—would you terribly mind? In exchange, you may keep the clothing, have Sundays off, and I will put you up with room and food. Don't worry; there's no field work involved; Bilbo was no farmer, I'll have you know. But a very good gardener, and if you even wanted to keep a patch for yourself, I see no reason why you couldn't have it."

"Sounds just what I do at home anyway. So what are you going to do in the meantime—knit socks?"

He laughed. "Well, I'll do my share of the dishes, of course, and I can clean my own room and the study is mine to keep as I wish it as well. Any other little tidbits you're unable to do, I'll do them for you. There's no need to clean the study—I can do that myself, and there are several rooms I'd rather you didn't enter."

"Why? Got a secret harem I don't know about? Any dead bodies? No? Damn it. I always hope to come across a secret labyrinth of doors and dead bodies. Don't mind me; I'm a fan of Vincent Price and B-horror pictures. No, it's cool. I won't peep where you don't want me to. Just show me where you keep the cleaning supplies, and I'll work wonders." The prospect of keeping Bag End in shape was enough to make even Mr. Clean cry and beg for mercy, but Adelaide rose to the challenge. She had to keep busy somehow.

Frodo smiled. "Good! I'm pleased that you take it so easy. And I promise, I shan't be cruel. We'll get along well, I think."

Adelaide smiled. "Don't worry too much about me...heh, how hard can a hobbit-hole be?"

* * *

Let's get a good look at "how hard a hobbit hole could be."

Bag End had been excavated into the side of the only suitable hill around, for it was quite large enough for a spacious, luxurious hole, built by Bungo Baggins—Bilbo's father, and the husband of the Old Took's remarkable daughter, Belladonna. Bag End wound from the great green foor west into the side of the hill. The hallway was about fifteen feet wide. The door faced south. The hall served as an entry closet, with hooks and racks for coats and cloaks and scarves. There were fourteen rooms total, counting the bedrooms, sitting room, cellars and pantries, kitchen, drawing room, dining room, study, and the parlour. The kitchen garden was kept closer to the west side of the hole, and the flower garden wrapped entirely around the length of the hill to end at the front porch and frame the door and rock path and steps quite charmingly with many beautiful flowers. It was a lovely hole.

But it was hell to keep clean.

Adelaide described her daunting task as the equivalent of doing time in Purgatory, and joked that her work in the Shire would probably get her right through the Pearly Gates. It might not have been so bad if the occupants were all female, or at least if Frodo was married or did not invite any of his bachelor friends over. But Adelaide had her work cut out for her. For one thing, Frodo had no idea what she meant by "cleaning supplies," and handed her a bucket of water with a rag when she wanted to dust! Adelaide thought she would scream; there was no Clorox, no Windex, no disinfectant, no polish, no lemon-smelling duster, and no vacuum. There was, thankfully, a broom and dustpan in a corner of the kitchen where it was gathering dust and cobwebs, and Frodo, after rummaging around, came up with a mop. But the supplies were limited, which meant that Adelaide had to ask around in town and inquire about homemade supplies and what other lasses and matrons did to keep their homes spotless and smelling clean and neat. Details of this nature Tolkien had never written down, but fortunately his little hobbits had life and minds of their own, and they were clever enough to know what was what. Adelaide stocked one of the closets with what could only be described as a "shipment" of cleaning supplies, and warned Frodo that if he so much as touched a rag, she'd pour cold water into his bath.

The second irritating thing about keeping house was having to cook six meals a day and supply snacks in between. Frodo was a fairly light eater, but he still could not deny his heritage and passion for food—and well-cooked food, at that. Adelaide was NOT a gourmet chef, and she felt that meals were not things to be hurried, but she found herself cooking and baking sometimes for whole days in order to keep the larder stocked. And then there was also the issue of buying groceries. Frodo usually kept the account books, and gave Adelaide a small "grocery budget" to work with. She had to learn quickly how to make a small amount stretch over a period of one month, with baking and cooking every single week! Again she had to ask around about preservation methods for meat and vegetables and other perishable foods, since nothing came in tin cans and refrigerators and ice-boxes did not exist. She also came to learn about the different parts of an animal and which parts were favorite edibles to hobbits so that when she bought her meat she knew precisely what she was getting.

A third problem with running Bag End was the garden. Adelaide had enough to do without keeping a garden neat, so when Frodo timidly mentioned that the side-garden was wilting, she almost slugged him. Gardening was NOT her forte, and she felt helpless among the variety of flowers, not quite being able to tell a weed from a normal flowering plant. For advice in this department she visited the Gamgee family, who were quite happy to fill her in. Sam eventually had to come and manage the garden since Adelaide had her hands full (and was about ready to kill someone), but for the first few years of her life in the Shire, Adelaide took care of the gardens, the cooking, the baking, and the cleaning—and everything involved with them.

And that was her life for about a year, wherein she set a schedule for herself, learned the places of everything and the rules and appliances, and slowly discovered the world in which she was now living. Hobbits had no machinery, so certainly nothing was factory-made, and there wasn't a Wal-Mart to be found in all of Middle Earth, so Adelaide had to learn everything she could about "the homemade stuff." If Frodo was ever sick, she had to learn what herbs and other remedies were the cure. She learned about soap-making, pottery, woodcarving, tool-making, and other such things. Every day held some new surprise and a lesson for her. She was grateful that Frodo was patient with her, for he recognized her eagerness to please and the natural OCD traits in her that begged for order and discipline in his life of bachelorhood. She thankfully learned quickly, and had a head for memorization. She was a hard worker, and skilled, putting her mind to just about anything and everything and getting it done. Balancing it all, however, was a chore unto itself.

There was one thing that she refused to do, and that was sew. Adelaide hated sewing, and the most she knew how to do anyway was patching up things and lightly hemming. Her stitches were never neat and tidy, like the other lasses', and she could not embroider beautiful things or turn out the gorgeous outfits that the other women did. Spinning and weaving was out of her league, too. _Kudos to the smartypants_, she thought. _But I'll never be able to do that_.

Her social life was in shambles. She was working so hard she did not have time to converse with anyone properly, and even when she did have the time, she did not know what to talk about. Hobbits spoke of gardening and housekeeping and family history, and occasionally gossiped about this and that, or passed around rumors of scandals. Adelaide never knew what was going on with anyone or anything outside of Bag End, so she could only listen miserably. She wanted to talk with Frodo, who shared her love of books and learning, and could discuss almost anything with her, particularly if she wanted to tell him about something that made her laugh. Once, while scrubbing the floor, she remembered a scene from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ that made her laugh, and Frodo, who happened to be nearby, asked her what was so funny. He did not give her a weird look and ask all kinds of dumb questions; he let her talk and was able to smile and laugh with her if she explained herself well enough. She was at ease with him, and felt comfortable with his presence. But she missed having a girlfriend to talk to. Eowyn was far, far away, and Adelaide dared not write anything for fear of having all of Rohan storming out to the Shire. She looked in vain among the hobbit lasses for friendship. Among such charming ladies there existed only one thing: rivalry. Until a lass reached the mature age of 33, her only thought and desire was to catch a beau, and there were rivalries surrounding different hobbit lads. Adelaide did not want to talk about men and sex and who was going out with whom; she wanted to organize parties and games and sleepovers. But few of the lasses trusted her enough to let her into their circles of fun. She was a foreigner, and a female one, at that. Until they knew that she was no rival or danger to them, they kept her at bay. Adelaide felt lonely and depressed, sick of all the work and starving for affection and some kind of physical connection.

It was Meriadoc Brandybuck, on one of his visits to Hobbiton to see his cousin Frodo, who noticed Adelaide's drooping countenance. He spoke with her, assessed the situation immediately, and asked Frodo if he could take Adelaide away to Buckland for a few weeks. Frodo was reluctant to let her go, but he finally gave his consent, and Adelaide went cheerfully away on a three-week holiday.

Buckland—where the "queer folk" lived—was a beautiful, merry land on the east side of the Brandywine River. Complementing the land were the cheeriest of people Adelaide could have ever hoped to meet. Merry was well-known and admired among his own people, and his friends were theirs. From the moment he lifted Adelaide down from the cart she was besieged with—she almost started crying—a swarm of hobbit-lasses and matrons who had heard about the foreigner but had not yet the pleasure of meeting her. They greeted her with cries of delight and instantly ushered her inside Brandy Hall for a meal. Adelaide was fascinated, for nobody seemed prejudiced, and everyone seemed to live only to have a good time. They insisted that she help with nothing and take her ease, and she was dragged outside for games of hide-and-seek and tag. She was showered with gifts—mostly clothes—and encouraged to join the ladies at whatever they were doing. And the things they did! Games and community-baking, huge sleepovers with giggling and gossip, explorations through the borders of the Wild Wood, swimming down by the Brandywine, flirting and dancing and carrying on until all odd hours of the morning. Adelaide's head spun with the giddiness of it all. What fun to wear such adorable clothes (with or without the corset; nobody cared!) and know that the attractive, feminine features of your body were highlighted! What fun to be teased and flirted with by handsome gentlehobbits who never talked of gossip or serious matters but always told stories and encouraged you to have all the excitement you wanted! And what fun to talk about yourself and your world and have an enraptured audience who didn't look at you like you were crazy! They were all so warm, so devoted, so polite! Adelaide never wanted to leave.

But when her holiday had spent itself, and Merry took her back to Hobbiton, Adelaide realized just how much Frodo needed her—three weeks gone, and the hole was a disaster. She sighed, put up her bonnet, and went to work.

Her time at Brandy Hall, however, had not been in vain. Hobbits were generally home-loving folk, but Brandybucks favored traveling a little more, and so Frodo found to his astonishment that a good deal of lads and lasses from Brandy Hall came to call on Adelaide, and etiquette demanded that she stop her chores, offer tea and cakes, and be hospitable. Sometimes that also meant that she go off and "play" with her new friends. The matrons of Hobbiton frowned at this irresponsible behavior—the foreigner was already regarded with some suspicion, even if she DID have a good voice—and to associate with the people of Buckland, of all things! They were downright queer, to be sure—they didn't think of things proper and practical for normal hobbits. They played too often and worked too little. And now Frodo Baggins' "hardworking maid" was gallivanting off with them! Well, what a to-do! Matrons clicked their tongues and shook their heads disapprovingly; lasses turned up their noses and continued to give Adelaide a rather cold shoulder.

But at this point, she did not care. Her associations in Hobbiton came with every humble question about things she knew nothing about. It somewhat stung her pride to have to be so dependent on other people for things she knew nothing about—Americans did not like to feel helpless in any way. But Adelaide gritted her teeth and got the questions asked and the work done. Little by little, a few of the friendlier hobbit-matrons became fond of her because she employed skilled courtesy and genuine southern politeness (Adelaide, having been born in Oklahoma, had been raised to understand southern manners). During her second year at Bag End she was invited to attend sewing circles (which she hated), community baking, and other small get-togethers in which the women worked silently or else talked of the "fast" hobbit lasses and their naughty shenanigans. They quickly discovered Adelaide's talent for planning and organizing, and so whenever there was to be a special, public birthday (such as the one Bilbo had) it was Adelaide who planned it out and organized it. Such events were hard work—even harder than managing Bag End—but the rewards were worth the blood, sweat, and tears. She quickly learned things about the different hobbits: their talents, their character, their interests, their scandals, and their family histories. It made for a more interesting time when planning things; Adelaide knew precisely who to call upon for an order of ale or a delivery of pastries; there were lasses with an eye for interior and outdoors décor, and there were other hobbits who paid attention to details as well. Adelaide felt sometimes like she was conducting an orchestra. But she soon gained a little respect, as well as a sort of bipolar reputation: she was reckless and irresponsible (just like those queer Bucklanders!) but hardworking and responsible. It made no sense to Adelaide when she was gossiped about meanly and then praised, all in one breath, so she just ignored everything and did as she pleased.

She still had her laptop. She had forgotten that she had brought her backpack with her through Lothlorien, Rohan, and all the way into the Shire. There was no internet (obviously!) but Adelaide had her iTunes and her pictures and documents and everything she held dear, including numerous videos she had made and a few downloaded movies. She also had her books for her thesis, which she realized she might as well put on the back shelf for the time being. But her laptop! Oh glorious day. If Frodo was ever out of the hole, Adelaide would turn up the volume as loud as she could and revel in the very non-hobbit-y music. The battery was not wearing down for some weird reason (one that Adelaide questioned often, but sometimes it's better to thank God and not question His gifts). Once, Frodo caught her dancing to Gloria Estefan, so of course the secret of the laptop was instantly revealed, and the hobbit was not satisfied until Adelaide had explained EVERYTHING about it. Thereafter, if he ever timidly requested a song, she laughed and laughed and gave in because it was so funny hearing Frodo Baggins asking to listen to Rick Astley or Tal Bachman.

He did what he could to take the load off her shoulders. He could see that she became busier and busier with each month as her reputation(s) spread. He picked up after himself, did his share of the dishes, and even swept the floor. Sometimes he dusted. He found that he wanted her to have fun and that he enjoyed watching her have fun. Whenever she came back from a romp around the countryside with her friends she was always laughing and smiling, her eyes lit up with a healthy sparkle. It pleased him to think that she was happy and content in her new home.

Frodo was also amazed that Adelaide had so much energy to pour into her new life and yet still keep a part of it attached to her old. She bounced around Bag End randomly screaming about the Boston Red Sox or the New England Patriots. She talked about movies and books and malls and National Parks ceaselessly. When he asked her to teach him the steps to a swing-dance, she taught him. If he ever inquired about life and convenience in her post-modern Primary World, she told him. Her stories were always about her adventures with her friends and college classmates, or (when he asked for it) history from around her Primary world. If he had difficulty visualizing anything she spoke about, she did her best to sketch it out for him, and he fondly kept all her drawings just in case he needed to refer to them. He was so curious about everything, from the simple mechanics of a toaster to a detailed explanation of clothes "Made in China" but bought from Wal-Mart. When Adelaide told him about the grocery store, Frodo's jaw dropped. Surely Americans were rich as kings to have a single building in which so much food was packaged and stored to be bought at convenience!

But when she talked about holidays, Frodo was instantly hooked.

"You don't need to celebrate Thanksgiving," Adelaide told him in November. "It's an American thing, and marks a period of peace between the Native Americans and the pilgrims. Why should hobbits celebrate Thanksgiving—other than the fact that there's a lot of food? That's like…like…Americans celebrating the French Revolution, or something."

"Frodo, remember when you celebrated Thanksgiving? The only thing edible on the table was the corn. Please, please, please don't even think about Christmas."

"New Year's Eve? Frodo, are you out of your mind? You can't even stay up past nine."

"I am NOT making a bunch of valentines to give out all over Hobbiton, Frodo, and quit telling me that I should wear the pink skirt, 'cause I won't."

"I never celebrate Presidents' Day, and I'm not about to start."

"Frodo! Hobbits don't even have religion…you don't need to talk about Easter!"

"Okay, Frodo, Gandalf isn't here, and I have no idea how to make fireworks. Besides, the 4th of July is strictly an American thing, and we haven't got any hot dogs."

"Halloween? In the Shire? Forget it."

"FRODO, WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS BEFORE. I AM NOT CELEBRATING THANKSGIVING AT BAG END BECAUSE THERE IS NO NEED TO!"

Hobbits enjoy parties of all kinds, and holidays were excuses for large parties, but Adelaide was terrified of Frodo's ideas because, quite frankly, he didn't know how to plan out a celebration in honor of the holidays, and Adelaide refused to help him. She saw no reason for celebrating Halloween or Valentine's Day in the Shire because…well, what was the point? They had no special significance to hobbits. But when Frodo gathered a group of his friends together and told them about Christmas, they agreed that chestnuts roasting on an open fire sounded downright interesting and they were going to have a Christmas whether Adelaide approved or not. Frodo managed to get Adelaide out of the hole for the two weeks before Christmas while he and his friends "planned" their celebration. They brought Adelaide back and proudly displayed the efforts of their hard work: a small, non-coniferous tree (one of Sam's baby apple trees dug up from the orchard) draped with ribbons and some popcorn chains; candles everywhere for effect; some crudely-wrapped presents (because shiny paper did not exist); and a feast that wasn't burnt. Adelaide could not help but be amused by the shining, eager faces of the hobbits who had hoped to surprise her. Frodo was thrilled when she unwrapped her gift of a small gold locket which had been his mother's; Adelaide gave him a hug and then, as a gift in return, sat all the hobbits down to tell them every single Christmas tale she could remember from books and movies. The best part, however, was when they dragged in a surly Sam Gamgee dressed as Santa Claus sans boots, with a fake beard made of sheep's wool. Sam grumbled, "Ho, ho, ho," and Adelaide laughed and sat on his lap to whisper her thanks into his ear. But after that, there were no more holiday celebrations at Bag End. They were just too much trouble.

Adelaide felt that she was living a very full life, and she gave herself a mental pat on the back. If she WAS stranded in a Secondary World, at least she was making the best of it, and she felt content. There were still moments when she remembered her family and friends and her life in Alaska, and she would have herself a good cry. Those were the moments when Frodo left her alone because she violently struggled with running away and seeking a way out. He was correct in assuming that her more practical nature would keep her grounded in the Shire since she had little other choice, but he felt sorry for her. Except for Alaska, Adelaide hadn't lived in one place for more than five years, and by the time her sixth year in the Shire rolled around, she expected hair to start growing on her feet. She wanted to travel around and see more of the land, or else go home, but it was impossible. So she had her moody spells...and, for the majority of the time, "acclimated" very well.

Then, almost by accident, her love life (not that she really had one anyway) took an unexpected turn.


	9. Thorns, Letters, and Infatuation

Chapter 8

Thorns, Letters, and Infatuation

**I decided to split the romantic chapters up to give a better feel for the situation...and because I like writing about romantic scenes. I thought in particular that the prime relationship of the fanfiction could be honed and shaped a little better, too. I think I like the results. Thanks for all the patience...there might be a few chapters out of place as I go back and edit the entire trilogy, but bear with me. :) I also apologize for the improper use of Adelard Took...according to the sources, he's much older than Frodo, so for him to be courting Adelaide seems a bit outlandish, but it was all I could think of at the time, and I like how the names are similar, so nobody jump on me with complaints, please. Everyone is allowed a bit of artistic license.**

* * *

"Ouch!"

Adelaide sat down and picked up her foot in both hands. The soles of her feet were rough and dirty, and, damn it, she had stepped on a thorn of some kind. Trying to get it out was the devil. As she pinched her foot and squeezed the flesh to pop the damn thing out, Frodo suddenly came up the pathway and smiled.

"Something wrong?"

"There's a thorn in my foot." Adelaide gritted her teeth. "And it doesn't want to come out, damn it all."

"Oh? Let me see." Frodo knelt down beside Adelaide and picked her foot up. Adelaide instinctively snatched her foot back, blushing sharply.

"Please don't. I hate other people handling my feet."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know…my feet aren't attractive at all. I'm shy about them."

Frodo couldn't help smiling. Adelaide usually tried to go barefoot so that the hobbit lasses wouldn't stare so awkwardly at her. But he had never known her to be so sensitive about them.

"Well, the thorn will never come out if you're shy about your feet! Now come, let me see." Frodo felt a sort of interest to see what the girl kept so hidden and secret. Adelaide kept on shaking her head, red as a beet, but then, covering her face, she stuck her leg out again, and Frodo gently took her foot into his hands. She had incredibly small feet for her tall frame. The toes were like dainty cat's paws, and the skin was smooth and sweet. But the soles, though rough, were not like a hobbit's. Frodo felt around the soft instep until he discovered the thorn. Very carefully he pulled it out, evicting also a small squeak of pain from the poor girl.

"There," he said, holding up the offending object. "That's all done, Adelaide. Why be so shy about your feet? They're very pretty. But not practical at all. You ought to wear some kind of shoe, or slipper. I'll try and see what can be done about it."

"Thanks," she said quietly. Frodo still held her foot in his hand, and Adelaide gently drew it away, pulling back from him and standing up, dusting off her skirt. "I'm bushed. The garden can wait for a few minutes. Got any water? I'm positively parched."

* * *

Adelaide—as she had told Frodo—had never had a steady beau. It wasn't that she didn't want one or that she was disinterested in male attention. The American society was very much entangled in the here-and-now with a focus on youth, sex, and the happiness brought out in mindless dancing, flirting, and drinking. Adelaide had grown up in this society—but sheltered under a roof that did not approve of such things and placed an emphasis on preparing children to grow up to be healthy, well-mannered individuals. As a consequence, Adelaide sometimes felt very awkward around her peers, preferring like-minded company. She had met many boys who were interested in a genuine relationship, but the majority of these were religious fanatics or just downright unattractive. And then *sigh* John of the pool had been handsome and like-minded, but after his burst of courage he turned coward again. Alas and alack. Adelaide knew he had liked her, found her attractive and fun. He had been very interesting to talk to also; he wasn't keen on theology or literature, but he was fascinated by horror movies, and Adelaide was a gifted critic, so between them both they delved deep and ended up laughing cheerfully along the way. But, alas and alack, he'd been too scared to delve any deeper. Boo-hoo.

She was not an ugly girl, either. She had the plain, practical face of her Polish side of the family, but high, elegant cheekbones and gorgeous gray eyes. Her hair was not curly, but there was a good deal of it, cut into layers, and it was very long, so that it appeared voluminous. She was freckled along her arms and legs and a bit around her face from working in the sun. She was curvy, too, but the curves had not so much fat as they did muscle, and, of course, Adelaide was proud of her shapely legs, flat stomach, and elegant shoulders. Her body was simple and practical and strong. She did not have any supermodel features that stood out, unless it was her eyes. She was no more attractive than any other lass in the Shire and she had her fair share of attentions. But no beau yet.

And then, because time is a marvelous thing that lets everything fall into place the way it should be, Adelaide discovered that she was the subject of interest of four very star-struck hobbits. The first one was a younger lad not yet come into his years of maturity who was so captivated by a passing glance that he offered to be Frodo's gardener—a task that Sam begrudged him most heartily—just so he could have the daily opportunity of perhaps speaking to that gorgeous creature. The second amorous suitor was a bit older, only five years short of thirty-three, who came from Buckland and very much admired Adelaide's balance of work and play; he felt she would make a very good wife, for not only could she run a place as big as Bag End but she also had "the hips for childbearing," and he wanted a large family. The third caller was around the same age but not as handsome, and he had never spoken to her, but found her to be very pretty. The fourth Prince Charming was, of course, Adelard Took. He'd never gotten over the initial introduction to the charming young maid, nor his excitement in finding in her a challenge of sorts.

Frodo exited Bag End one day to see Adelard Took outside the fence, looking around with a boquet of flowers in his hand, humming merrily to himself.

"Ah, Frodo!" he called. "A-herm, is the little lady available?"

"She's inside dusting," Frodo replied, a little surprised. "Why?"

"A-herm, well…er…I'll just call back later, shall I?"

"Wait a minute; what do you want?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing! I'll call back later—"

"Can I give her a message?"

"Er...um...hm. Well, I suppose...will you tell her to meet me...no, better...I'll just call back later!"

And off he went.

Neither Adelaide nor Frodo were quite prepared to deal with the new situation. Adelaide had vainly thought that new girls were always somewhat more attractive to guys so she'd get hit on during the first few months. When that didn't happen, she finally sighed, threw up her hands, and acknowledged the truth that perhaps hobbits didn't like humans that way, no matter how short they were. But she was wrong. The lack of "jumpstart attention" was primarily due to the fact that the hobbits were very shy of her. Adelaide had her grandfather's commanding eyes and firm tone of voice which startled the lasses and astonished the lads. A young tween lass ought to have a polite, sweet voice and gentle nature; she was not supposed to behave like a matron until her mid-thirties or forties, at least! Who wanted to court a girl who spoke her mind, usually gave you a piece of it, and stared at you boldly? Her confidence was a bit overpowering (in this way, Adelaide was very much like her mother, but if anyone had known of it and told her, she'd have slugged them). And so, Adelaide scared all the lads away, and those who felt interest in her were afraid to get close.

But Adelard liked that idea of danger.

For him, Adelaide represented the challenges of the unknown. It was boring to seduce a Shy Violet, and even more humiliating to seduce a lass who was bold only because she had slept around with the lads. But Adelaide was a virgin—or so she said—and—as it was rumored—completely inexperienced in the realm of the birds and the bees, thanks to a solid Catholic mother who had only had "The Talk" with her daughter once. And the interesting thing about THIS virgin was that she was NOT a Shy Violet or an Idiot. Of course, Adelaide wasn't stupid. She knew what "69" meant, and also the definition of "fellatio," and if someone teasingly asked her if she preferred missionary or dog, she could honestly tell them that she'd tried neither, but the dog sounded like fun (and then watch the reaction on their faces—people who thought Adelaide was a sweet little girl without the slightest notion of sex always looked like she'd blasted them with a bazooka!). She knew how babies were made, for God's sakes. It was a part of life-in fact a very pleasurable one-and let's not go getting all twittery and shy about it, eh? Adelard fully recognized a smart and beautiful and confidant girl when he saw one, and he wanted her.

"Adelaide, you have two…three…you have five letters! Who on earth do you know that gives you five letters?" Frodo asked, handing her a bunch of envelopes.

"Huh, obviously someone who cares," Adelaide chuckled, plucking the envelopes from Frodo's hand. "They're from Adelard."

Frodo sat down on a stool. "He doesn't have much to do with his life."

"Who, Adelard?"

"Who else would I mean? He's really very lazy, Adelaide. He doesn't like to farm or garden, and he has no sense of decency. Not a proper hobbit at all."

"I think you're biased."

"Now, why would I be biased?"

"I saw Adelard just yesterday in the fields. He was working up a sweat. And he's built. You can't tell me he's lazy, 'cause then he'd be fat." Adelaide was reading the letter. "And he's got very nice handwriting."

"Bilbo taught most of us when we were little," Frodo said grudgingly.

"You don't have to snap about it."

"I didn't snap."

"Yeah, you did. So, what ticks you off about Adelard, anyway?"

"I just don't feel that he's a good friend for you to have, that's all. He's a bad influence with the lads, and twice as bad with the lasses."

"How so?"

"He just is."

"What, is he a ladies' man, or something?" Adelaide chuckled. "So was Harrison Ford and Sean Connery. And they were fucking HOT."

"I don't know them."

"Personally, neither do I. But they're still hot. I think I'll go and talk with Adelard. He's written me five very lovely letters, and I don't see why I can't try to make friends with him."

"He wouldn't be much fun for you."

"Oh, and you'd know what would be great fun for me, eh?"

"I just don't think—"

"Please don't think, Frodo. Your head will blow up, and I just cleaned the floor."

* * *

It came as a surprise to no one when Adelaide and Adelard started officially courting—if that's what it could honestly be called. Adelaide would later say that Adelard's idea of courtship was the American equivalent of "slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am," but only in theory; he never had a chance to test it because he was kept very busy trying to get Adelaide to that point. Adelaide was a romantic, which meant that—though she had her steaming visions of sexual aggression—she wanted flowers and long moonlit nights of whispering sweet nothings. Adelard was astonished to discover that she wanted to sit beneath a tree and TALK on their first date! Imagine, he—Adelard Took—talking with a girl for a whole hour, when he—Adelard Took—could usually get her screaming in ecstasy within fifteen minutes! But he swallowed his pride and his disappointment. Adelaide was a foreigner, and perhaps she needed to be approached on a different level. For her sake he played Romeo. For her sake he brought her flowers, read her poems, and gave her kisses beneath the apple tree. For her sake he—gulp—did his best to TALK to her and instigate interesting conversations. What he discovered was a lass who opened up beautifully and laughed and gave him her trust, which was not _primarily_ what he wanted, but of course, it was a start. Adelaide, like any other girl, liked to lean on a strong, supportive masculine shoulder and believe him to be the knight in shining armor to defend her from everything. Like most confident women, she, too, wanted a man who could control her and love her with a fierce pride and joy. And, at first, that was what Adelard provided for her.

So, for two years (Adelaide's seventh and eighth years in the Shire), life was peachy-keen. She had work, a social life, AND a fabulous boyfriend who looked like a mini-Cary Grant. He did precisely what he believed she wanted, putting up a front so that she would fall right into his arms. He had thought that seducing her would be fun, but once he came to know her, he realized that she was not the "tango type." She was more of a waltz or a Michael Bolton slow dance—but she was not a club dance or a tango. Had Adelard been more patient and truly in love with Adelaide, he would have figured out quite quickly that she could be any dance at all, once the right buttons were pushed.

But during Adelaide's ninth year in the Shire, that chance bypassed him.

* * *

Adelaide was still blindly infatuated with Adelard when the practical little angel on her left shoulder began pointing out some hard truths. The devil on the right tried to hush them up, but Truth is hard to ignore.

The first issue was that Adelard was beginning to be a little pushy. He was demanding that Adelaide come with him at any time during the day (or night!) and backing up his demands with the excuse of "I read it in a book" or "this is what real romantics do." Adelaide was tired at night, and if she was busy during the day, she felt terrible about having to tell him "no," particularly when he looked so dreadfully disappointed in her. Her conscience battled with her bully. _Honest to God, you can't go with him, and that's that! And why are you looking so damn mopey? Why should you care what he thinks of you?_ But Adelaide did care. She was beginning to feel the need for a young man's attentions, and Adelard filled something in her that had previously been missing. But his demands on her were so annoying! WHY did he have to knock on her window and wake her up at one in the morning to go read poetry beneath the full moon in a fucking cornfield? And WHY did he have to look so damn miserable when she refused?

The second issue at hand was Adelard's neediness. Adelaide recognized in him the similar trait of needing and wanting love—she knew it in herself and had seen it in others. But Adelard seemed to need more than her love. He just seemed to need HER. Adelaide noticed that people seemed to respect Adelard a little more whenever she was around with him—certainly his precious friends clapped him on the back and constantly congratulated him, as though he were Colonel Tottington with a trophy water-buffalo. Adelaide did not like to think that she was a trophy water-buffalo, or that Adelard kept her with him because she brought him respect and attention. But she couldn't help but feel a little used when Adelard brought her into a bar and then ignored her as she sat by his side while he laughed and joked with his friends.

The third nagging doubt was the lasses. Adelaide was aware that her boyfriend was a ladies' man, so she tried not to give in to jealousy. After all, jealousy did not befit a woman. It was catty and immature. But when a soft-spoken, buxom maiden sidled up to Adelard and deliberately grabbed the front of his trousers while he flashed her a quick, promising smile, Adelaide REALLY wanted to claw the ivory skin until blood flowed. Didn't any of these people have any respect for the loyalty and love between couples? She did not realize, then, that most of the lasses could see damn straight that Adelard did not love Adelaide at all. She was getting to be a bore; she wasn't responding to his sweet nothings and kisses by pulling up her skirt the way most lasses did. And every lass knew that the way to catch a lad was to let him see beneath the skirt and petticoats! Silly foreigner! It was her own fault if she couldn't keep her lad around. If she'd have swished up her skirts for him, he might never leave her. But Adelard was not about to be chaste for Adelaide's sake, and she was beginning to realize it.

The fourth and final argument that the angel put in front of Adelaide's face was that she simply did not love Adelard, either. Oh, it was all very fine and dandy for her to exclaim about love and all that gushy stuff, but Adelaide could not bring herself to let Adelard even tongue her, and she miserably had to admit that it wasn't her Catholic upbringing that put a rein on those activities. Being Catholic had nothing to do with it; in fact, Adelaide was in possession of the knowledge that the Catholic Church approved of good, solid sex, and she did NOT believe that French kissing was a sin, nor that making out was anything bad. But she just couldn't bring herself to let Adelard put his hand up her skirt or his tongue in her mouth. Something kept blocking the way, and she couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Adelard," she said one evening, as tenderly as she could, in an effort—experimentation, rather—to figure out what was blocking her mental capacity to dive on her boyfriend and smother him with kisses. "You've really been so good to me, you know. So very sweet. I appreciate all the wonderful things you do for me. I just don't know how to thank you properly."

He turned to her, interested. Her mind calculated. _Hmm, it's something in his eyes. Like he's interested in getting something from me, and I don't want to let him have it. But why not? It must be that it's because he's interested. By why should that bother me?_

"Well, honey, I could show you," he said, putting an arm around her, and pulling her close. He smelled of fresh grass and something sweet that Adelaide could not identify. His hands closed around hers, his long, strong fingers curling around hers. He was leaning in for a kiss.

_Why is that so damned repulsive anymore? And what to GOD is that SMELL? Why does he smell like someone rubbed lavender all over him? _Adelaide pulled back. "Adelard, you've got a cut on your upper lip!"

"Oh, that!" he smiled jauntily. "I accidentally collided with a beam last night. Drunk as a fiddler, I was."

"It looks like someone BIT you."

"I bit meself, honey. Beam fair knocked me jaw into me lip."

The physics of an overhead beam banging a hobbit beneath his chin did not quite work. Adelaide gave him a suspicious look. "Adelard, don't lie to me."

"I'm not lyin'!" He shoved her away and glared at her. "Why d'you always think I'm lyin'? You haven't got any trust in me, that's your problem! You're always goin' on and on about what I'm doin' and where I've been. Why don't you leave well alone, Addy?"

There! Adelaide's eyes flashed. "I could ask the same of you. What am I, property? You never leave me alone. You always want me to come when you call, like a dog, and you get jealous over every conversation I have with any lad at all, not that there's many who beg to talk with me! You got all pissed off about the Gaffer a week ago. For God's sake, Adelard, the hobbit's OLD. Do you honestly think I'd fool around with someone with white hair and wrinkles?"

"You might surprise me," he said bitterly. "And none of your foul mouth with me, missie. You know I don't like that attitude in you."

"Ha! You're a complete joke. You don't scare me a bit," she announced, getting to her feet. "And I don't give a damn what kind of attitude you like or dislike. Why the hell should I worry about what YOU think? You never give a shit about what I think or how I feel. Everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. I have every reason to be suspicious of you, 'cause you trust me about as much as a mouse trusts a snake. So there, we're even. If you don't like me, why are you dating me?"

"Oh, honey, I didn't mean it like that," Adelard purred suddenly, getting up and putting his arms around her. "I just don't like to think my sweetheart is a bad girl."

Adelaide froze. "Bad girl" was a term infrequently used, but nevertheless described the very few hobbit lasses who slept around in different beds and acted "fast." Adelaide was damned sure she was not a bad girl, and for Adelard to even insinuate that she might act like one—

Later that evening, Frodo stared at Adelaide in shock as she stormed into Bag End, locked the door behind her, shut all the windows, and then curled up in her room for a good cry. Obviously she had had another fight with Adelard again. The quarrels were becoming more and more frequent, and usually ended with a very moody Adelaide. But to Frodo's astonishment, Adelaide would always continue to go out with Adelard. He did not realize that she was trying to be loyal and fix the relationship, as she felt it her duty to do.

But he wished she would end it.


	10. So You've Figured Out I'm Normal

Chapter 10

So You've Figured Out I'm Normal

**Thank you so much to those who have posted such uplifting reviews! You are a writer's blessing. I am really enjoying the editing process for this story, and I am very proud of the results. Many thanks to everyone who has praised the story! I am still trying to edit the story, so there will be glitches between chapters, so please everyone put up with it for a bit long, I beg of you. **

**The next few chapters were so much fun to write. I have the hugest crush ever on Frodo Baggins, and I'm afraid it shows. **

* * *

It was sometime during Adelaide's second year of dating Adelard that another change took place in Bag End, although the house itself was not altered in any way. While one of its occupants was falling out of love, the other was falling in. He just didn't realize it.

Frodo Baggins, master of Bag End, was sitting in his arm chair and smoking quietly when his attention was aroused by the figure in the background. Adelaide stood on a stool to reach the top of a bookshelf that needed dusting…and she wasn't wearing a skirt. Instead, she was wearing her jean shorts and her camisole and a yellow bandana, for it was very warm in the hole, and she was working up a fine sweat with all the cleaning. Her back was turned to him, but Frodo found, suddenly, that he could not take his eyes off her. He didn't know why, and settled for the explanation that he was simply observing her. After all, that was a perfectly natural reaction. Adelaide was a good-looking lass; why shouldn't he observe and admire her? She had nice-looking legs, strong from all the hiking and swimming that she did, and he bet anything that if taught correctly, she might make a very good dancer. She had well-proportioned hips, too; that girl was going to be a mother, he was sure of it. She had strong shoulders and lovely arms freckled with "angel kisses," as she called them. His eyes raked her from top to bottom and then from bottom to top.

Why, she was quite pretty, now that he took a good look at her. Frodo smiled slightly, his interest piqued.

Adelaide was humming the tune to "Kung Fu Fighting," and had no idea that she was being observed. When she stepped off the stool and turned around, Frodo blinked and snapped out it immediately. Why, what silly thoughts he had, to be sure! After all, Adelaide was no hobbit; she was human, and what business did he have thinking such things about a human? Why, Marigold Bracegirdle was much prettier, with her dark, silken locks and attractive violet eyes that slanted up slightly at the edges and milk-white teeth and coquettish winks and smiles. That was how a lass ought to be; plump and happy and coy, almost like a flower! Hobbit lasses were gorgeous creatures indeed, and Frodo felt a stab of pride for his race.

Then he looked back at Adelaide. Marigold vanished like a puff of smoke. The American had moved on in her dusting, but he could see her face this time, concentrated in her work. He liked that about her—a project-perfectionist. She was clever, managed her time well, and stayed well-organized. She was also popular with the young hobbit lasses; Adelaide had a talent for planning events and she drew in friends of all ages who wanted to have fun with her. Her natural energy and positivity made her an instant success. And there was something else besides all this—Frodo could not put his finger on it exactly. He forgot to think about it when he looked at her. He forgot about everything when he looked at her.

A similar "observation" occurred a week later when Frodo came back from the market in Hobbiton to discover Adelaide on her hands and knees, working in the garden. She was pulling at some weeds in the far corner, and they were giving her trouble coming up, so she was tugging backwards with all her strength. What she didn't realize was that the motions of her body were setting Frodo's mind on fire with images that ought to have been rated triple-X. And what he didn't realize was that he was oblivious to standing on his doorstep staring at her for ten whole minutes before she finally looked up at smiled a cheerful smile that broke the lustful spell and made him grin sheepishly before going inside and pouring cold water over his head.

The third time an "observation" happened, Adelaide was chopping up potatoes and mushrooms for a pot-pie she had invented, and Frodo happened to walk by and notice that she looked absolutely adorable in her little skirt and apron. He wondered if she might squeak like a mouse if he crept up behind her and gave her waist a little squeeze. That led to wondering about cuddle-potential…and what her skin might feel like…what sort of noise she might emit if he fondled her breast…or nipped her ear…and if she would push him away if he did such things. He felt warm all over, and not from the heat of the kitchen. Drawn by an invisible cord, he walked up behind her and stood quietly, just to be near her. He could smell the rose-water she had washed herself with—Valar help us all, she smelled good in herself, but surrounded by all that cooking food! Mercy! It was almost more than he could stand. If it had been possible to eat her, Frodo might have. But Adelaide, equipped with that wonderful sixth sense that most Americans have, felt that her space-bubble had been invaded, and turned around.

"Frodo! You scared the pants off me. What the hell are you sneaking around like that for? What's the matter? You look sick. You're not getting sick on me, are you? The last time you got sick you were in bed for a week with the flu, and then I got sick and lost my voice for a whole month. You'd better not be getting sick. Oh my God, go lie down for a bit; you look pale and about ready to puke all over the floor and I do NOT need that in here! Get going! I'll bring you some water and food, and then go to BED!" She shook her head as he trailed off dejectedly. What was WRONG with that furry-footed nincompoop? Honestly, he was acting worse than a girl on her period. Oh well, there was no time to contemplate his issues. Adelaide had given up trying to figure out the Master of Bag End. Tolkien hadn't been very specific in his characterization of his hobbit-hero, so Adelaide was content to just let Frodo be himself, and she would just come along for the ride. Besides, she had a date with Adelard.

Adelard…whew. Adelaide sighed. The name was giving her a headache anymore. Maybe it was all the stress of having to act happy when she really wanted to puke.

She did not like the fact that Adelard treated her like his personal property. At first she was proud as a peacock when he introduced her to his friends and commented loudly to them about her positive attributes in public. Then it started to make her feel awkward, particularly when it was clear as day that he was trying to make his friends jealous. Then she began to feel downright annoyed. _Good God, Adelard, why do you have to treat me like a trophy that some dumb high-school kid carries around because he won the all-state basketball championship? I know it's not possible that I can be THAT amazing. Good grief, I whine and bitch about everything, and my hair is flat, not bouncy and curly like a hobbit's. Now, I'd do ANYTHING to have Rosie Cotton's hair, and her skin…good grief, if I could have flawless skin like that, I'd win Miss America at least three times in a row!_

Yes, Adelard had no way of knowing, but Adelaide was seriously considering dumping him. Since it was her first serious relationship, she felt a little awkward just thinking about it; she would have liked to mend the tears in the relationship if she could, but Adelard kept fucking up. Adelaide was irritated by his suspiciousness, easily-riled temper, free flirtation with the other lasses, and her own incapacity to just shut up and let him make out with her. Practical sense told her that if she couldn't even let him French-kiss her, then she clearly didn't love him enough to go all the way, and if he was a boring date and annoyed the hell out of her, then clearly the relationship simply wasn't going to work. And time and time again she had the words on her lips: "Adelard, I just don't think it's going to work. I'm sorry. Better luck next time!" And time and time again she just lost her nerve, thinking, "Oh, well, he MIGHT come around; you never know!" Adelaide had forgotten a very important, basic rule about guys: they never changed and nobody and nothing except a spiritual experience could ever make them change. So Adelaide had to put up with her own stupidity for a while.

One night, she decided to go off and see Adelard and try to talk with him about how she was feeling. She knew that Adelard cared for her feelings about as much as he did about the ground beneath his feet, but she wanted to clear the air about a few things. And perhaps he would listen! And then TOGETHER maybe they could decide something.

"Where are you off to?" Frodo asked her.

"Hm? Oh, me? I'm just going to go visit with Adelard. We've got some things to talk about, and maybe we'll walk beneath the stars while we talk. How romantic is that?"

Frodo had a sudden urge to bolt the door. "I think it might rain."

"Don't be silly. I checked the sky five minutes ago—it's clear as a whistle."

"I thought I saw some clouds in the distance."

"Aw, you're really sweet for trying to rescue me from the rain, but I think I'll be fine. Besides, I think it would be just romantic as hell to be caught in a downpour—it's like the scene from _The Quiet Man_, when John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara have their kissing yahoo in the storm. All the best lover scenes happen in the rain, you know."

"But they're not practical—not a bit!"

"There's no need to snap," Adelaide said, surprised. "I'll risk a cold. And I don't think it's going to rain anyway, so there's no sense in getting uptight over it."

Frodo stood helplessly on the doormat for a minute and then ran to the window just in case a downpour DID occur at that precise second—as Adelaide said, all the best lover scenes happened in the rain, and would it not be fantastic to be able to carry her back to Bag End, all soaking wet? Why, she would have to strip down for a bath, and perhaps she might ask him to hand her a towel, and then they might sit beside the fire together and things would just start happening…

_I don't understand this at all_, he thought angrily. _Why, she's no better than the other lasses in the Shire—and no worse, either, for that matter! Why do I care? I'm not falling in love—I couldn't be. This isn't proper at all. If I want to get married, I have to find a suitable wife for myself—someone practical, who doesn't bounce around all the time screaming about the Boston Red Sox, and who can keep a home running smoothly and raise at least five or six children. Adelaide is an outsider; she knows nothing of the ways of the Shire. She still has trouble fitting in—she's too stubbornly set in her own ways, and not ready to settle down yet anyway! Why should anyone go off flirting with her, especially Adelard? He wouldn't make a good husband for a toad. He's not worth the mud beneath Adelaide's feet. I don't know what she sees in him, anyway!_

But when Adelaide came home a few hours later, Frodo was waiting for her, and he could not ignore the thrill of joy that made him feel light as a feather as she walked through the door. She took off her cloak and hung it on its peg by the door. Then she turned her gray eyes on him, and the hobbit just about melted through the floorboards. He had to sit back down again. Would she join him? Sit beside him? Curl up the way she usually did, knees to chin, and speak about how her evening went? Usually she was euphoric beyond words, and sometimes she just cried and bitched about how awful Adelard was. But tonight she just sat down by the fire and began poking at it. She didn't say anything for a long time. A thousand thoughts rushed through Frodo's head, least of which was not the hopeful prayer that Adelard and Adelaide were done being a couple.

_She's upset, _Frodo thought worriedly. _I can see it in her eyes. She wants to talk about it, but she's so infuriatingly private about the things that get under her skin. Oh, if only she would speak to me! I want to understand!_

"What a night," Adelaide said wearily. "And I'm starving. Is there any food left? I think I could eat a horse."

Frodo sighed. Those were not the words he'd hoped to hear. "I put everything away, Adelaide."

"I'm not asking you to get it out for me. I just want to know if there's anything left."

"Well, yes. But surely you're not going to eat at this time of night!"

"Thank you, fairy-godmother, but I was home before the clock struck twelve, so I'm not about to turn back into a mouse or a lizard or a pumpkin. I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat."

Nothing would dissuade her, and so she stalked off moodily to the kitchen. But to Frodo's surprise, when he went to check on her an hour later, Adelaide was sitting at the table surrounded by FIVE empty bottles of wine, and not a crumb of bread or cheese was with her. Adelaide sat with her head nestled in her arms, and at first he thought she was asleep, but when she raised her head, he saw that she'd been crying. Five bottles of wine! Frodo did not want to question the propriety of five whole bottles, and who would at a time like this? He slid onto the bench beside her and tentatively put an arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body for the first time. He wanted to say something, but good common sense told him that it might be better to just shut up.

He was rewarded for his discreet silence. Adelaide leaned her head against his shoulder and just cried.

* * *

The next day, while Adelaide was safely taking a nap, Frodo held a conference with Meriadoc Brandybuck, his younger cousin. Merry had a reputation for being a "ladies' man" without all the scandal involved; young lasses broke their hearts over his handsome face and yet he loved all of them with an equal passion that made the older gentlehobbits chuckle and the matrons cluck their tongues in mild shame and envious approval. Merry knew more about the opposite sex than Frodo did, so it was to him that Frodo poured out his troubles and concerns, relating the incident of the five wine bottles, Adelaide's strange behavior, and what he might do to help. Merry stroked his chin. Frodo had never come to him for help before with regards to a lass.

"Did you know I courted her for three weeks?" he said. Frodo nodded. "And you weren't jealous over that?" Frodo shook his head. How could he be jealous over that? Adelaide and Merry had both enjoyed themselves without the physical affection; he had shown her a good time around the Shire and got a chance to kiss her—that was all. There was nothing romantic in that courtship; in fact, it could hardly be called a courtship at all. Then he realized what Merry had forced him to say out loud.

"I'm not jealous," he stammered. "Not a bit of it. I'm just concerned for Adelaide, that's all."

Merry spoke one word. "Adelard." Then he burst out laughing. "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo! You should see your face. If I were Adelard, I wouldn't want to take you on, the way you're looking at me now. Not jealous! My dear hobbit, it's plain as day. You're head-over-heels for your little maid. Not that I blame you. She's an attractive, energetic lass. Come on, I won't tell anyone. Have you said anything to her yet?"

"I honestly don't know what to do," Frodo confessed helplessly, spilling his guts. "I can't get her out of my head—and she's no more attractive than the lasses around the Shire—but her hair isn't quite brown or ripe-yellow; it's got golden highlights when the sun shines on it, and her eyes light up when she smiles—but no more attractive—and I can't stop thinking about her. I can't stop looking at her. And every time I do, I have this—this—this animalistic urge to tackle her and—and—"

"Do her proper?" Merry grinned. Frodo glared.

"Not in the least."

"Oh, come down off your high-horse, Frodo. It's alright to say it. You're in love with her and you want to make love to her. That's not a bad thing. In fact, it's probably very good. You haven't kissed a lass since Marigold, and you're getting very gloomy and serious. Have you told Addy how you feel? I don't know what you're waiting for."

"She's a foreigner, a stranger to our world."

"Hmm, and she's been here how long?"

"That's beside the point," Frodo said, irritated. "Adelaide is not a hobbit, nor is she soundly familiar with our ways yet. I don't think she could live as a proper hobbit's wife."

"So what's the point in being jealous of Adelard?"

"I don't know!" Frodo got up and paced the floor angrily. "I just don't _know_! It isn't fair. I don't want these feelings at all. I ought not have them! But I can't help it. She makes me forget, sometimes, that I am alone without Bilbo. She makes me smile and laugh. She has such a tempestuous nature; sunny and laughing one moment and then crying and storming the next. And we do get along, you know. I can actually talk to her honestly, even if she does laugh at me sometimes and tell me I'm funny. For example, we'll both sit and read in the same room, but then we'll both look up at each other simultaneously, and then she'll ask me a question…and we never get bored together. I'm NEVER bored with her, never dull. I don't know what to do…I've never been in love before. It feels so foreign, so strange. I don't know how to tell her how I feel—and I shouldn't have to! She's not a hobbit. It's not right."

Merry shook his head. "If it makes you feel any better, courting a human isn't much different than courting a hobbit—except Adelaide hasn't been raised in the Shire with the same values taught to the young women, so she's a little more difficult to control. But females are all alike. They want a knight in shining armor. For instance, I knew she was lonely and wanted to go exploring, so I took her out, introduced her to my friends and family, and took her exploring all the way over to the Old Forest. She was thrilled! I was her knight-in-shining-armor when she most needed one, and now I think it's your turn. She won't last long with Adelard. I overheard him talking to Sancho Proudfoot, and apparently your maid is playing hard-to-get. You know he likes them easy, but she's not that kind of girl. She has confidence in herself, and he makes her feel nervous because he _needs_ her to feel confident in _himself_."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Haven't you ever noticed that Adelard NEVER shows his face in public unless Adelaide is with him? I mean, of course he THOUGHT he was confident, but she's like alcohol to him—he's addicted to what she brings him: attention, respect…he needs her to make him feel more than what he is."

"He's using her!" Frodo snapped. "Can't she see that? They argue all the time…they have the most dreadful fights, and Adelaide comes home later and later…sometimes she's drunk, and other times she's perfectly sober, but she shuts herself up in her room and cries and cries and I can't get her to stop—"

"Hold up, Frodo. You look ready to cry yourself, and I don't have a handkerchief with me." Merry squirmed uncomfortably. "Look, I wouldn't worry too much. I wouldn't be surprised if she dropped him sooner or later. She's probably hanging onto him because she's frightened to let go. It happens. You know Ivy, don't you? I courted her for a bit, and when it just didn't work out, I explained things to her and she absolutely burst the dam. Hung onto me for at least an hour, soaking my clothes and wailing that no one else loved her. A month later, what happens? Married to young Fortinbras. Addy doesn't know that the sea is wide and the fish are many." Merry looked at Frodo for a long time, noticing his haggard appearance. "You really are in a dreadful state, old chap. Why don't you and Adelaide come out to Buckland for a little bit? You know, get away from Hobbiton, Bag End, and all the chores. Adelaide truly enjoyed her time at Brandy Hall the last time she was there, and it's been a while since we've seen you. It might be fun to have you again, and of course everyone's wondering when you'll visit."

Frodo considered it for a moment. "It might be a good idea. Adelaide needs some time away from Adelard, that's for certain. He's beginning to exhaust the both of us."

"At least you admit THAT," Merry chuckled. "We'll expect you at the end of this week, then."

* * *

Frodo went back in to check on Adelaide. Tentatively, he reached down and fingered a stray piece of hair, tilting it this way and that so that the delicate gold sheen was caught by the sun, making the lock sparkle. He wished he could wake her up by kissing her—slowly at first, and then with wild, reckless abandon so that she would be helpless to resist. _Listen to me_, he thought hopelessly. _I'm a wreck. She's the most wonderful, beautiful lass I know, and I'm going to pieces over her! But she's in pieces right now, despite that peaceful look on her face. She'll cry like an infant when she wakes up, and I suppose I'll have to have some kind of bottle ready for her. But what will occupy her mind?_ He thought for a minute and then brightened. Adelaide enjoyed books! He hurried off to his little library and grabbed a book off the shelf. Yes, this would do nicely! And perhaps something to drink and eat, too…Frodo hurried into the kitchen and made up a plate for his ward, with cakes and tea. There, he was all set. But perhaps she would like something cheerful, too, like some flowers! Frodo hurried out into the garden and made a lovely little bouquet. Ah, that was nice. There, now all he had to do was wait for her to wake up! He would listen by the door, and the minute he heard her stirring he would come inside, dry her eyes with his very own handkerchief, and present her with the flowers and plate, and as she sipped her tea in bed he could read to her, and by and by perhaps she might begin to feel something for him. She might lay her hand on his arm, smile at him, and thank him so much for being so kind, and he would smile jauntily back and assure her that it was no trouble at all; he was pleased to make her so happy, and then she might lean on his shoulder and bewail her fate and Adelard's cruelty before confessing somewhat timidly that she had never really loved him anyway. And then perhaps he might put his arm around her and kiss her forehead, and she might say, "Please don't stop," and then he would hone in on a more interesting feature, like those lovely red lips. And then…!

Frodo was so ridiculously lost in his giddy fantasy that he did not hear the door open. Adelaide shuffled out, looking as mean as a bear woken from his wintertime hibernation. "What the fuck is the time?" she growled. The Master of Bag End just about jumped out of his skin.

"What?"

"I asked—oh, never mind!" Adelaide pushed past him. "God, Frodo, I swear, you're so clueless, sometimes. Anything and everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. Why can't you bring your head out of the clouds and down to earth once in a while?"

"Where are you going?"

"I guess I'm going…nowhere," she said moodily, plopping herself down on the floor and putting a hand to her head. Her brain reeled and spun. Frodo knelt beside her.

"You should rest a little more," he said kindly. "You drank five bottles of wine last night."

"I know I did. That's what's so awful. I can actually remember how many bottles I drank! I clearly wasn't sloshed enough. I should have broken open your beer, too."

"Adelaide, you're not feeling well," Frodo told her as gently as he could.

"Huh, you don't have to tell ME that."

"You ought to get some rest."

"I don't want to sleep. I'm starving. No, I really mean it this time. I'm absolutely famished."

Frodo was so relieved to be spared the temper he thought she'd throw that he ran back to the kitchen and cooked her a huge breakfast. He was greatly heartened to see her eat everything he cooked, even if it was a bit burnt here and there. Frodo was not a very good cook, but Adelaide did not care at the moment. When she finally pushed her plate away with a contented sigh, Frodo calmly informed her of Merry's offer. With the promise of at least a month's vacation at Brandy Hall, Adelaide's eyes almost popped out of her head, and Frodo's heart did a flip when she smiled, looking much more like her normal self. "Oh, thank God," she sighed.

She immediately decided to get washed up and dressed and go purchase some groceries in order to do some baking for the Brandybucks. "I don't know why, but everyone seems to like my sugar-cookies. And then I'm doing laundry when I come home."

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Frodo asked kindly.

"Much, MUCH better, thanks. Adelard and I—oh, never mind. I'm not even going to get into it right now. Well, I'll see you in a bit."

Frodo's heart almost jumped out of his chest with hopes galore. He had never wanted to ask a more burning question: Is it over? Oh, please, please, please, let it be over! But to ask would have been rude. And Adelaide looked too tired to speak about it. She looped her basket over her arm, waved goodbye, and walked down the lane into the market. Frodo watched her go with a smile and then settled down to do a bit of packing for the upcoming trip.

He had not been long at it when there was a knock on the door. Frodo went to answer it and almost shut it again. Adelard Took stood on the doorstep, looking very upset—an emotion made even uglier by the most beautiful black-and-blue shiner Frodo had ever seen in his life. Adelard looked as though he was trying to maintain some dignity, but Frodo almost burst out laughing. With great restraint, he politely asked what Adelard wanted.

"I've come to see Adelaide," came the growl.

"You just missed her. She's gone into market to buy some things. She'll be back shortly, if you care to wait. What happened to your face?" Frodo blurted. Adelard's face twisted.

"I'll come back later and see her."

"I don't think you ought to. She wasn't feeling well last night, and—"

"She WOULD tell you that," Adelard snapped. "I'd like to bet you she's feeling just fine. I'll come back later and see her."

Later that afternoon, as Adelaide was busy baking in the kitchen, Frodo made himself a cup of tea and mentioned the visit to Adelaide, watching her carefully. Adelaide dusted off her hands.

"I'd rather not see him at the moment. If he comes around again, you deal with him."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Just tell him to go away."

"Suppose he doesn't?"

"Throw a book at him."

"A BOOK?"

"Well, alright, then use one of your pots or pans. Just throw something at him."

"He's already got a lovely bruised eye," Frodo commented.

"Does he?"

"It's the first time I've seen him with one."

"Really?" Adelaide looked tremendously pleased. "Something else ought to be bruised, too. Was he holding himself funny?"

"No…why?"

"Hm, obviously I didn't kick him hard enough."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Adelaide, is there something you're trying not to tell me?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one thing," he teased her, catching hold of her waist boldly and spinning her to face him. "You're not looking at me. There," he said softly, tilting her chin up so he could see into her eyes. "Now, then, my lass, why don't you tell me what happened last night?"

She twitched her nose. "Wouldn't you love to know!"

"I would." He was suddenly aware that his hand still rested on her waist and that he was slowly stroking her chin. A burst of heat flowed through his body. She was breathing softly, but with a heightened pace, and she still did not meet his eyes. He was inches away from her lips when there was a knock at the door. Adelaide wriggled away from him and peered out the window.

"Oh, God, it's Adelard."

"Stay here," Frodo told her quietly, pushing her down onto a bench. Adelard was waiting impatiently at the front door, his eye swollen shut. His one good eye burned angrily.

"Well? Where is she? Is she in there? I want to talk to her. ADELAIDE, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, NOW COME OUT AND TALK ABOUT THIS REASONABLY! Honestly, Frodo, you'd think a lass would be a little more practical! But no, she has to run and hide. Tell her to come out here, will you?"

Frodo folded his arms. "She's not going to listen to ME, Adelard."

"Oh? Aren't you two getting all cozy, yet?" Adelard sneered. "It's just as well. You're too much of a timid little mouse to say anything to any girl, and what would she do with you, anyway? You're scared of your own shadow."

It never occurred to Frodo that Adelard was jealous of him. There was no lost love between the two cousins, of course, but ever since Adelaide had popped up into their lives, a definitive, unspoken rivalry was taking place. Frodo, naturally, had envied the exalted place that Adelard occupied (or did he?) as Adelaide's sweetheart; but Adelard begrudged Frodo something else that he himself was unable to get from Adelaide—her friendship. Frodo knew Adelaide in ways that Adelard never did and never would; he knew her personality more intimately because he had the advantage of being the home that sheltered the foreigner. He could see her every day in her every action. The thought of his "stuck-up, aristocratic" cousin being privy to the heart, mind, and spirit of Adelaide drove Adelard wild with envy. But Frodo was completely unaware that this was the case. He did not flinch at Adelard's nasty comments; he folded his arms coolly and repeated his original statement: Adelaide was not going to come and see him if she didn't want to.

Adelard was about ready to break down the door when Adelaide marched into view, looking furious. She shoved Frodo out of the way, went outside with Adelard, and closed the door. Inside, Frodo heard the muffled voices as they bit back and forth. Adelard was heated with fury, but Adelaide's voice was like the water off a glacier. The conversation did not sound good at all, and when Adelaide actually started swearing, Frodo knew it was high time to do something. But before he could intervene, Adelaide stormed inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it tightly. She brushed angrily at the tears that were streaking down her flour-covered cheeks. Then she marched back to the kitchen, where Frodo could hear her clanging around with the pots and pans. She turned on him as he entered, and he faced her guiltily, a little ashamed for having spied on the conversation. But Adelaide did not seem to care.

"Holy Moses, he's a terror and a half! When are we leaving?"

"At the end of the week," he said gently.

"Is there any way we could leave sooner?"

"If that's what you would like."

Adelaide bit her lip and then shook her head. "No…no, never mind. I'm not about to run away just because he's going to make life difficult. Pass me the sugar, please. Oh, and get that little bowl for me—pour a bit of sugar in there, would you?"

"Adelaide, I wish you would tell me what's going on."

"It is NONE of your business, Frodo Baggins; now will you PLEASE do something useful and leave me alone?"

"What! Why? NOW what have I done?"

"I just want to be left alone, okay?"

"Adelaide, please…!"

"I WILL SERIOUSLY THROW THIS POT AT YOUR HEAD IF YOU DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE, HOBBIT-BOY!"

Frodo lost his temper. He loved her dearly, but he wasn't about to let her steamroll right over him. He gripped her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. "Adelaide, don't you threaten me. And don't you think that I'm blind or deaf or…or incapable of seeing that something's got your hair in a knot. What was that all about? Why is Adelard so upset? If he's bothering you, we'll leave for a bit, and we'll leave this very minute, if you want. But this is my home and you're not going to drag in the trash from outside, do you understand me?"

Her mouth fell open and she sat down hard on the bench. She hadn't been spoken to like that for a long time, and she suddenly remembered that she was a guest in a foreign land. A stranger. An outsider from the Primary World entered into the Secondary. This was not her home, and she could never make it her home, for all that she was learning! She had felt so integrated, and all of a sudden, now…memories came flooding back to her, memories of home and family and her friends and everything she had known as familiar and fun and good. The clothes she wore now seemed strange and irritating. The place she was in seemed cold and unfriendly. And this person who had her by the shoulders…

Frodo saw the change in her eyes as if she was not looking at him but at someone else, and her haunted, frightened face scared him. For a moment, he thought he'd lost her, lost everything so beautiful and precious he had come to know about her. But Adelaide was not a turtle; she never backed down or pulled her head into her shell when faced with something frightening. All Frodo wanted was the truth, and there was no sense in getting all emotional about it. Her nose twitched, and then she spoke slowly and carefully, hoping he would get off her back about it.

"Adelard and I had a fight last night."

"About what?"

"If you don't mind, that's private."

"I do mind, but I'll humor you. Go on."

"Well, he slapped me, and so I punched him. I had no idea I could punch like that. I was imitating something in a movie, and it must have worked. Then I told him it was over. We fight all the time, and I'm sick and tired of him treating me like some kind of prize water-buffalo. I wasn't having any fun with him. So I dumped him. I'm just not…I mean, I wasn't in love with him." Boy, that sounded ridiculously cheesy and dumb. But Adelaide meant it. She wasn't in love with Adelard, and that was the real truth, the real, honest-to-God truth of the whole issue. Seemed stupid. But there you go.

Frodo let go of Adelaide and sat down hard onto the bench beside her. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, but the one thing that bubbled up to his lips—of all the stupid things—was: "Well, how long did it take you to figure that out?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Just how long did it take you to figure out the obvious?"

"Frodo Baggins, if you're going to be mean about it—"

"I'm not being mean. I want to know. You certainly did a very good job of LOOKING like you were in love."

"What's the matter with you?" Adelaide was astonished. "If you're implying that I'd use someone—"

"No, no! Good heavens, Adelaide, I know you better than that. But I was so used to seeing a cheerful lass bouncing around Bag End, not one who flooded the hole with salt water. Anyone could see you were miserable with him, and yet you clung to him for so long. What made you do it? Why couldn't you have let go?"

Her jaw dropped again. "Well, hello Mr. Curiosity! And since when did you take such an active interest in the mind of a woman?"

"I don't believe you know at all. You are getting all flustered and angry at me now because I'm right, aren't I? You DON'T know why you didn't let go of him, do you?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an arrogant bastard?"

"Arrogant, yes, the other…never. And you're not going to be the first one," he said lightly, enjoying the conversation. He was ruffling her feathers, and he didn't care; he was in love with her, and he wanted to argue with her, converse with her, bring her back into his life again. "You were afraid that there would be no one else who would ever fall in love with you. I'm ashamed of you. I thought that you were a confident lass with a practical head on her shoulders, and now I see that you're no better than the rest of all the women in the world—emotional, high-strung, and very much afraid and in need of a gallant knight in shining armor."

He smiled when he saw her jump to her feet, a look of anger crossing her face. My, she looked adorable when she was angry!

"Oh, go to hell!" she snapped. "Who the fuck asked you for your opinion, anyway? You wouldn't know about women even if you read a manual. Of COURSE we need our knights in shining armor. What woman doesn't want one? I never pretended that I didn't."

"You never acted like you did, either."

"That's my glorious self-confidence you're slandering."

"Well, there's no need to get upset about it. I was paying you a compliment. I set you up on a pretty high pedestal, you know."

"Huh, and now you've figured out that I'm normal. Good for you."

"You act like that's a bad thing. Did you want to be up on my pedestal?"

She completely missed his bold insinuation, hearing, instead, the contradictions he was playing with in her head. She didn't understand. Was he condemning or praising her? What was he trying to get her to say? Oh, God, he was being so bloody HATEFUL! For the first time in a long time, Adelaide was speechless and worked into a fine temper. Her nose twitched, her cheeks burned, and she gave Frodo a look that froze the lions all the way in Africa. But he folded his hands coolly and stared back at her. "For heaven's sake, Adelaide, what a tempest you make in a teapot. You ought to know that I think the world of you."

"Of course you do. I clean your house. I do the cooking. I run the errands. I keep the garden neat. I've worked hard for you. Why shouldn't you put some kind of value on me? How many other lasses could do what I do, eh? How many of them know what it's like to have to adjust when you're torn up by the roots and transplanted several different times? Of course you think the world of me! Why shouldn't you? No one else around this isolated utopia can do what I do. And you have the indecency to sit there and lecture me? Why don't you go climb a tree and fall out of it?"

"Because I don't like getting hurt—any more than you do," he added. He held out his hand. "Come here, my lass. I wasn't making fun of you, and I wasn't trying to be mean. I only wanted to point out to you that you were frightened of letting him go because his affection was somewhat of a rock for you to cling to, and now it's gone and you have to be a tough little soldier again."

Oho, now he was going to try and butter her up! Nothing doing! Adelaide folded her arms and ignored his hand. "Frodo, for God's sake, what makes you think I would put up a front like that? This is how I am. I've never pretended to be anything other than what I am. Of course no girl likes to let go of a sweetheart, even if he is a little abusive…he's otherwise affectionate, and why should I be left out of the couples' club? But having a boyfriend or losing one doesn't change my personality. It may play havoc with my heart, but I'm no different, except there were lessons learned. I am who I am, and Adelard couldn't cope, that's all."

"I still think you're denying your more feminine side that's begging for protection and affection, but I'll humor you," Frodo teased. Adelaide twitched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him.

"And I'll humor you and let you damn well think what you like. I've never pretended that I don't want protection and affection, and I'm not about to start, so you can have your damned opinion of me and I'll try to remember you on my wedding night."

_And I hope it's my face you see instead of his—whoever he'll be_, Frodo thought. _And would it be too much if I hoped that you scream my name instead of his?_ He held out his hand to her again. "Come here, my lass. Try to smile; you're in such a pet that your face might permanently freeze, and I hate looking at such a sour puss. Come on, we'll leave right now, if you want. I promise. I won't let Adelard pester you anymore."

"YOU won't let him?" Adelaide raised her eyebrow skeptically. Just what was this little twit up to, now? Still trying to butter her up? But his words made her feel a little better. The thought of having to avoid a stalker was not a pleasant one, and Adelaide was glad to know that at least Frodo was looking out for her. She took his hand and let him pull her down to the bench beside him. His heart beat faster when she shrugged helplessly. "Oh, what the hell. Alright, at least let me finish baking the cookies and then let's get the hell out of Dodge City. The sooner the better, that's what I say."


	11. The Thunderstorm

Chapter 11

The Thunderstorm

**This chapter was so much fun to write about. I apologize to hard-core Tolkien fans if some of my writing on the characters is a bit off-kilter; I tried my hardest to write according to the appendixes regarding hobbit family trees, but some of the information may be a bit faulty. I apologize in advance! Also...hee-hee, I was brave enough to put a little more "activity" on the screen. I enjoyed trying my hand at a romantic scene, and I hope I pulled it off well!**

* * *

"SHE'S HERE! PEARL, PERVINCA, PIMPERNEL, ESTELLA, MENTHA! ADELAIDE'S HERE!" Celandine, Merry's little female cousin, shrieked with delight, and about fifteen hobbit lasses suddenly flooded around the trap where Frodo and Adelaide sat. Adelaide immediately hopped down without waiting for assistance and started handing out hugs and kisses to the barrage of girls that crowded around her and started talking all at once. Merry waded through the sea of skirts and clapped Frodo on the shoulder.

"You're a bit early! We weren't expecting you this soon."

"Ahh, I'm sorry," Frodo apologized. "Adelaide was in a bit of a rush."

"And you gave in. My dear hobbit, you are hopelessly lost. I forgot to tell you, but Pippin and his family are visiting, too. When word got around that you were coming, my dear old father decided to have a celebration."

The trap pulled alongside the road beside the Brandywine, across from which lay the great Brandy Hall, home of Saradoc Brandybuck, his wife Estella, and about fifty or so other Brandybucks and their relatives and friends. Frodo had lived at Brandy Hall for a time before Bilbo adopted him, and he was almost glad to see that the place hadn't changed much—it was still as rowdy and exciting as it was before. Adelaide disappeared in a throng of colorful skirts and ribbons as the lasses besieged her happily. Merry sighed.

"It'll be a real treat having all these lovely ladies with us for the next few days. Pippin's family is staying here all summer, but of course their friends and all have got to go home soon."

"WHAT'S ALL THIS RACKET? Can't a hobbit get any decent sleep around here?" roared Saradoc, Merry's father, hobbling out of the hole, waving his cane. "Oh, it's you, Merry. And there's Mr. Frodo Baggins! Good, good! It's about time you came to visit us, you young rip—why, my aunt Primula would have tanned your hide if she knew you were avoiding all your decent relatives, even if we ARE Brandybucks, eh, Merry? Madam," he took Adelaide by the hand, considered her deeply, and then planted a large kiss on her cheek. "Adelaide! My pet, you stay away from us too long. I'm glad you were finally able to drag this no-good rascal along with you. Well, well, Essy's a-waitin' you in the kitchen, she's got one of those sweet-rolls you like so much, and little Celandine wants to show you her new doll. Go on, then, we'll help these strapping young lads with the luggage!"

"Hullo, Miss Adelaide."

"Meliot Brandybuck, you handsome thing, bet you came all the way over here to break my heart."

"Oh, come on, Addy, don't tease this crazy little brother of mine—I want you to meet my cousin Ilberic. He finally came out from his treehouse for a social, and he hasn't met you, yet."

"Mentha! It's so good to see you! How's your lamb Bluebell doing?"

"A real sweetheart, Addy; you should see her!"

"Frodo!" Pippin called. "Merry got you out of Bag End! I didn't believe him. I told him you'd probably rot there forever."

"Frodo wanted some…private time with loved ones," Merry grinned at his cousin, and Frodo wished he could twitch his nose in irritation, as Adelaide often did. He settled for glaring at Merry, who thought Frodo was just too funny. He put an arm around him.

"Now, now, Frodo, I know why you're here, and Pippin will have to know, too. We'll make sure you have all the dances with her, all the secret hiding spots for watching the ladies swim…"

"Oh, there's a party tonight," Pippin added. "Vinny brought her friend Marigold. I know you fancy her!"

"Pippin!" Merry gave him a sharp jab. "Frodo's not interested in Mari anymore."

"What? Why not?" Pippin was astonished. "She's the loveliest lass in all the Shire, and you two used to be sweethearts, right, Frodo?"

"Er—"

"She's been asking about you," Pippin yakked on, oblivious to Merry's efforts to shut him up. "When she heard that YOU were possibly coming, she got so excited I thought she'd jump straight through the roof."

Frodo was pleased to see Brandy Hall again. It was, quite possibly, the largest and most extensive hobbit-hole in all the Shire, for, as the Gaffer always said, it was "a regular warren." Children as well as tweens and adults ran pell-mell without any sort of organization whatsoever, and there were a LOT of relatives. Frodo was instantly pulled aside to shake hands with Esmeralda, Saradoc's wife, and of course his brother Merimac and son Berilac. Seredic and Hilda Brandybuck were there as well, and of course Doderic, Ilberic, Merimas, and Meliot, as well as countless others who had brought wives, brothers, friends, and others. "We thought it a good time for a bit of a family reunion, seeing as how Merry was able to convince you to dig yourself out of Hobbiton long enough to visit your relatives," Saradoc pounded Frodo on the back. "Why, your little lass visits us more than you do, and she's practically family already! Fits right in! Now, Meliot, just you pass around the ale, there, and some pipes, and we'll have us a song or two while the supper's cooking!"

_Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go_

_To heal my heart and drown my woe_

_Rain may fall and wind may blow_

_And many miles be still to go_

_But under a tall tree I will lie_

_And let the clouds go sailing by._

A plate of victuals was pressed into Frodo's hand, and Merry pulled him over to a chair beside the others. Some of the hobbits were calling for music and more songs, while others yelled out loud for stories, and some shrieked above the din that they wanted news and gossip from all the different families. It had been a long time since Frodo had been in Brandy Hall, and he felt slightly shy. Eventually, introductions were made all around, and the matrons took the littler children away from the tweens and elders, and the lads and older hobbits were left to converse in peace while the table was laid for supper. Everyone wanted to know what Frodo was doing with his life now that he was a respectable bachelor in Hobbiton, and they were a bit disappointed to hear that he was still studying and traveling abroad throughout the woods and fields of the Shire, particularly in the interests of speaking to the Elves and dwarves. There was a bit of excitement, at least, about the Elves and dwarves, and the dialogue turned down paths of mystical creatures and other wild things that lived in the forests. This naturally led to tales and stories, and as evening fell, the fireside blazed up, and shadows danced on the wall behind those who wove the colorful tales of ghosts and walking trees, of piles of jewels and dragons' hoardes, knights, beautiful damsels, water-spirits, and other such things that often fascinated the Bucklanders. They were not as shy or afraid of the wilderness as those in Hobbiton were; in fact, Bucklanders often went to the man-town of Bree and did business and trade there with the Big People, so there were always interesting stories to be told about the silly doings of humans.

"SUPPERTIME!" Esmeralda, for all her slight frame, had the volume of a Marine drill sergeant. Children, tweens, adults, and elders crowded about the table; the lasses came in from their outside games, and everyone scooted in. The rule was to say grace at table, and then grab food from the buffet line and sit and eat wherever you pleased. Frodo was overwhelmed by the rush hither and thither. He was used to a very quiet meal (unless Adelaide was in the other room with Bon Jovi cranked up to the maximum volume level). But he liked—and confessed that he had missed—the social meal and conversations. The lasses hurried to grab their plates and then sat beside each other or their sweethearts to talk and laugh. Even Adelaide had a plate, and she was sitting beside young Meliot, who was yakking her ear off about "the extraordinary thing that happened yesterday." Frodo was watching them with a familiar twist of jealousy in his gut when a soft hand came down on his shoulder, and a voice like cool water rippling spoke his name.

"Hello, Frodo."

Frodo looked up and caught his breath. Marigold Bracegirdle stood beside him, her full red lips pulled into a smile, her violet eyes sparkling with delight. Was there any other lass on earth that looked as beautiful as Marigold? Frodo gulped. He and Marigold had once been childhood sweethearts, and he had chased her around in the garden until she permitted him to kiss her cheek. She had always been infatuated by those large blue eyes, strong-soft skin, and his teasing smile. He had always found her gypsy-black hair and slanted violet eyes most appealing. But appearances aside, they were strangers in mind and heart; Marigold had no head for learning anything except how to catch herself a lad, and she was used to creating a façade for herself so that she appeared pleasant and charming to the lads, while she was catty and cruel to her rivals. She smiled prettily and plumped herself down beside Frodo, shaking her curls out from her face, her violet choker shining on her white throat. "Frodo Baggins, I shall be most upset if you don't promise me a dance this evening," she pouted. "You never come to see me anymore."

"I've been busy," he confessed, which was only half-true. "Really, Mari, I haven't had time for much visiting of relatives around the Shire."

"Oh, you!" she slapped him teasingly on the leg. "Shame on you, Mr. Baggins. Really, I'd have thought better of you. Everyone knows you're quite a little mole. You like to hide away from all the noise and excitement, don't you?"

Frodo gulped again. Marigold's soft white hand was resting on his leg. He made a genuine effort to calm down. "Well, I've never been much for large parties," he told her with a squeak.

"Oho, well, we'll change all that soon enough, Mr. Baggins," purred Marigold. "Because surely you'll be my escort at the Early Summer Fest at Brandy Hall. I will cry buckets if you say no, you naughty lad."

Adelaide was entertaining young Meliot with a story about a shark attack in Hawaii when she glanced up and saw Marigold Bracegirdle with her hand on Frodo's leg and her soft, creamy face turned up into his with seductive, hooded eyes. Adelaide's nose twitched involuntarily, and her jaw dropped. The nerve of that bitch! She was bold as brass! Why, her fingers were practically inching for the family jewels, and if she wasn't begging for a kiss…! Adelaide felt her stomach drop, turn a somersault, and fly up to the roof of her mouth. She didn't feel hungry anymore; she felt like an active volcano. She felt protective of Frodo; he was…well, he was a…a good friend! Yes, that was it, he was and had always been a good friend, and Marigold was nothing but a…a…a BAD GIRL! Adelaide wanted Marigold away from Frodo at once, but Meliot pulled on her arm. "Oi! So, what happened to the surfer? Did he survive?"

"No," Adelaide snapped. "He died from all the blood loss." _Someone else is gonna die of blood loss, too, if she doesn't get her filthy hands off my lad…I mean, him!_

"Oooh, tell me another one," Meliot's eyes were huge. He had a hopeless, helpless infatuation with the high-spirited foreigner who told such marvelous stories, and since her earlier flirting with him, he had fought and scratched his way over to her side all evening long, sitting at her feet in fond devotion and listening to her every word as though she was speaking to him and nobody else in the room. Adelaide just twitched her nose and trusted that Frodo would behave himself, despite the fact that temptation was hovering over his lap. Meliot followed her eyes and saw that Marigold and Frodo were quite enthralled with each other. Of course—Adelaide was snippy because she was jealous! She wanted attention to, and why not? Shouldn't all girls like to be teased and tempted by a handsome fellow? Meliot summoned up enough courage to slip his hand into Adelaide's, pressing it firmly. "Dearest!" he said, the endearment coming through forced lips. Never in his life had he felt so shy and timid around another girl, but her casual, frank manner made it possible for him to find his tongue. "Adelaide, I—I'd like to hear another story."

"Would you," Adelaide said tonelessly. Meliot took her sarcasm at face value.

"Oh, yes! You tell—you tell the most dearest, most exciting stories. You—you have such—such a—such a gift!"

"Um."

"My dear, you wait here, and I'll fetch you something to eat," he said brightly. "A story always goes well with food, and you must be thirsty!"

Adelaide twitched her nose and glared after him, her good mood dispelled. She looked back over at Frodo and Marigold, and felt her gut twist painfully. She felt hot and uncomfortable, and suddenly she did not want to wait for Meliot; she got up and meandered back to one of the rooms where a bunch of other girls were gathering to "powder their noses." At any evening event, after dinner and before the dancing, the young ladies primped and checked themselves over to make sure that they looked their best. Adelaide had a beautiful yellow-and-green outfit from Bilbo's mother, and Pearl let her borrow a black ribbon to tie around her throat. Adelaide tied her hair back into a ponytail. She welcomed the refreshing chance to talk about gossip, for of course the girls wanted to know if she was still with Adelard, and they wanted to know the whole story of how she had broken up with him, and then the subject turned to the rotten behavior of lads and "bad girls," the fast ones who were naughty and deserved to be shamed.

"Ooh, did you see Marigold?" sniggered Pervinca ("Vinny"). "She's a fast bit of baggage tonight, isn't she? First it was Minto behind the barn, and now she's all over Frodo."

"Well, I think she's funny," Pimpernel ("Pimp") said, dabbing her nose with some cream. "Stupid as a mule and twice as stubborn."

"She's your friend, Vinny," said Pearl. "I don't know why you're talking rot about her."

"I didn't invite her, I told you that," Vinny snapped. "Pippin asked me to. He said it wouldn't be a party without Marigold, but I WARNED him that something like this would happen."

"You two USED to be friends, didn't you?" Adelaide asked, secretly glad to have a comrade-in-arms.

"Well, girls, we did—until that fast bit stole my Motto Boffin right out from under my nose."

"She didn't!" all the lasses chorused.

"Of course she did. Why shouldn't she? Oh, half the lads weren't enough for her; she had to go grabbing another girl's beau, and you know Motto was never the same around me afterwards. Wasn't himself, you might say! So I told him to go off and frolic with Mari, and of course then she wouldn't have him."

"No!"

"Yes! Decided she was too good for him! And when he came crawling back to me, well…I told him he was a very wishy-washy lad who needed to think things over, and so he went and got himself Maymee Bracegirdle as a wife, and that was the end of that!"

The ladies sighed. It was so exciting to hear about the dumb antics of the male species and the drama that eventually led to their broken hearts. Adelaide felt wickedly triumphant even when the girls made much over her story, for Adelaide was the kind of person who, when angry, took her revenge in a way that made every lass wish she could have dumped a former beau in a similar manner—with drama and style, the way it ought to be done, so that the lad was shamed to highest heaven, and the other girls could coo and make much over the offended damsel. That was the way you were supposed to flout a lad. But Adelaide had been bitter and grumpy and very drunk, and she knew she had hit below the belt—and yet she didn't care one damn bit if she'd followed the secret etiquette or not. The main point was to get rid of Adelard and hurt him as much as she possibly could—which she had succeeded at. But she still enjoyed the attention of the girls.

"So what exactly HAPPENED?" Pervinca breathed.

Adelaide reveled in telling the horrifying tale. "So I went to go talk with Adelard, you know, to try and see if he'd listen to me and how I was feeling. Well, I got it from Rosie at the Green Dragon that Adelard had been there that afternoon and offered to see one of the girls home, and then—"

"And then?" the girls shrieked with wicked delight.

"—and then I sort of just came upon them as I passed by one of the mills. They were getting pretty active among the flour sacks."

"Were they…were they doing it?" Celandine whispered.

"Loud and clear," Adelaide laughed. "She was making a noise like some kind of sick donkey, and he was moving so fast I thought he'd suddenly blast right off into space."

"And then what happened?" Pearl asked.

"Oh, I rained on their parade. I grabbed a small sack of flour and swung it right at his ass," Adelaide beamed, and the girls looked at her with envy. Oh, how they wished they could have been there to see the look of pain and horror and surprise on Adelard's miserable mug! "He toppled over onto her and then she screamed and I swore at them both and he came after me, and we had a gorgeous fight. Then he slapped me, and I punched him." The girls turned green. Oh, to have BEEN THERE! To have seen Adelard get punched in the face! Adelaide looked rather proud of the neat job she'd done to her ex-boyfriend.

"I'm glad it's over," Pearl said darkly. "He's a no-good fast-lad."

The conversation turned again to courtship and dating and lads and, well, of course sex and other fabulously naughty things that girls talk about behind closed doors. Adelaide thought it was hilarious that most hobbit lasses secretly had a consuming desire to know about royal harems and whether or not royal Big People—like kings and princes—might enjoy the company of a scantily-clad short maiden with curly hair. Adelaide had enthralled them all once with a tale about Sinbad (again, got from a movie) and palaces of marble and silk where half-naked girls danced before smitten sultans and wicked magicians (who were actually much more interesting than the smooth-skinned prince) in a haze of perfumed animals and smoking incense. Vinny, in particular, loved to hear about the flying carpets and genies, and had several times gotten the rest of the lasses to play make-believe with her, even though the stolen hallway carpet really didn't go anywhere at all.

A sudden knock on the door caused much squealing and panic as the lasses raced to finish their last-minute primping and fussing. Giggling and other chatter resumed a normal pace as they filed into the cleared dining hall. Musicians struck up a song, and a lively line-dance ensued. Adelaide sat off to one side with Pearl. The two girls refused dances, choosing instead to sit quietly and talk. Pearl had a sort of sixth sense that allowed her to know just what a fellow female in distress needed, and Adelaide wasn't exactly up for dancing that evening…she wanted to watch and sit and think, and perhaps even talk a little more about what was going on inside of herself. Pearl loved Adelaide like a little sister, and, in a motherly way, wanted to comfort her. She sympathized with the foreigner who had never deserved such rudeness at the hands of one who should have been a polite host. Pearl was such a practical, level-headed person, a good friend to cling to when emotion turmoil bubbled up. But Pearl would never have been any comfort to Adelaide if she hadn't been a strong young woman herself. Pearl and Adelaide were friends because they were smart, practical lasses. They supported each other. Pearl smiled, reached out, and clasped Adelaide's hand. "Honey, there's about a million more fish in the pond, and the majority of them are ten times better than Adelard. Trust me, you did well to avoid his bed. But out of curiosity, how WERE you able to avoid getting laid?"

"I honestly haven't the slightest idea. I wasn't really in love with him. And anyway, the idea of him getting friendly with my southern parts just grossed me out."

"Were you hoping for something better to come along?"

"Perhaps. I don't know."

Pearl gave a knowing smile. "Meliot thinks you're a heaven-sent gift. He's handsome, too."

"I'm not interested."

"You shouldn't lead him on, then."

"I'm not leading anyone on. It's his own damn fault for liking stories so much. What am I supposed to do, tell him to get lost?"

"If I know you," Pearl said with a grin. "That's precisely what you'd say. You're not yourself at all. What is it, honey? Did Adelard really mean that much to you?"

"I told you, I was never in love with him."

"You're in love with someone else," Pearl teased her. "Come on, who is it? Do I know him? He's got to be one lucky lad. Oh, I know—someone from your America, is that it? A lad from America?"

"Heh, no."

Pearl smiled. "You'd best tell me because if you don't, I'll keep on asking you every day from the dire need to know. Come on, Addy, my curiosity's piqued. Who's the lad? Oh—" Pearl sucked in her breath; the crowd had parted a bit, and Adelaide had a sudden view of Frodo dancing with Marigold. Pearl looked over at Adelaide's face and grinned. "Oh, it's HIM, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You're in love with Frodo, aren't you?"

"Nonsense."

"Nonsense yourself. Heavens, Addy, there's no shame in THAT! Why SHOULDN'T you love him is the better question: he's a rich, handsome bachelor. And he's so NICE. That's the thing about Frodo; my cousin is such a nice hobbit. He's honest and charming and sweet, and I happen to know that he's a genuinely romantic lad. Look at the way he waltzes. Bilbo taught him that. Look how his arm grips around the lass' waist, so strong and protective. He could press you up against him and you'd feel so secure, so happy. Your head would get all fuzzy by looking into his eyes; they're the most beautiful eyes in all the Shire. You could feel his heartbeat, too, if he pressed you close enough to him—"

"Pearl, will you shut up?" Adelaide felt irritated and grumpy.

"Oho, tell me your heart's not all a-flutter," Pearl teased her. "Pippin says I have a gift for description, and that I ought to be a writer. Perhaps I will take up a pen someday. So, how long have you been interested?"

"I…well, I…oh, I don't know."

"You do, too! Heavens, Addy, you've been living with him for about ten years, now. If he's stood in the way between you and Adelard, that's a powerful presence and you've got quite the loyal heart. Oh, come on, stop all that blushing. You're not the type to be so embarrassed over your heart's desire. Well?"

Adelaide bit her lip and pulled herself together. But she still felt hot with embarrassment. She hadn't been teased about her love for Frodo since Gandalf had pointed it out blatantly to her face.

"Adelaide, go dance with him!"

"Who, Pippin?"

"No, you silly; go dance with Frodo! Look, if you don't cut in now, Marigold will have him all to herself. Madam, we cannot let that happen," Pearl stood up like a military CO and pulled Adelaide up and onto the floor. Adelaide was crimson as her hostess marched her over to Frodo and Marigold. The music had stopped, and a slower dance was playing now. Pearl grabbed Frodo's arm. "Frodo Baggins, your pretty little maid has been sitting out four dances so far because none of the other lads have the gumption to ask her. Come on, Marigold, let's go bother young Meliot and Minto. Ta-ta."

She looped her arm over an irate Marigold's and led her away, winking at Adelaide, who stood twitching her nose and wishing that now might be a good time to blip back into America. She burned red with embarrassment and burned even hotter when Frodo took hold of her waist. She had no idea that he was enraptured by the thought of holding her. He was actually pleased that she seemed much calmer now that she was out of Bag End and away from her worries in Hobbiton. He watched her face, but she did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to look down and off to one side. She seemed very shy, not like her real self at all. "Lass," Frodo said gently. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. Don't be stupid."

"You're heart's all a-flutter, and you look very hot. Would you like some water?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, feeling rebellious and spiteful.

"You know I worry about you."

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Oh, Adelaide, don't say that. It isn't a nice thing for a lass to say, that she can take care of herself."

"Do you really think I give a damn what you think?"

"I always thought you did. We have such interesting conversations. What's got into you, my lass? You're not yourself at all. Are you sure you're alright? Would you rather we both went home to Bag End? We could do it, you know," he suggested soothingly. Anything, oh, anything to please her, anything at all to make her happy. Marigold was pretty, but Adelaide's presence in his arms reminded him just how much he adored his American lass. She looked beautiful in the firelight, her body warm and smooth against his. He was grateful that Pearl had brought her over to dance with him. Adelaide twitched her nose again and shook her head in answer to his question.

_Oh, please, just hold me tighter, please. Don't let the song end, please. Hold me very tight and don't go anywhere NEAR that raven-haired, violet-eyed bitch. I'm yours, I belong to you. I'm your lass, you call me your lass all the time, and I don't want to hear you say it to any other goddamned woman in the world except me. I'm your lass, your own, your precious lass, and if only you knew how much I really do care…_

"Adelaide?"

"What?"

"You do look funny. What are you thinking of, my lass?"

"None of your business." Adelaide suddenly pushed herself out of his arms. "I'm all hot, after all."

"Would you like me to fetch you some water?"

"No. You leave me alone!"

Frodo tried to catch hold of her, but she slipped out of his arms and ran back to her seat, where Meliot Brandybuck suddenly accosted her and begged her for a dance. At first she looked snappy and irritated, but then she slapped her hand into his and let him pull her to the floor. Frodo was confused and hurt. Adelaide had never put him off like that before—well, there had been the time when she was drunk and angry, but now she was sober and calm. What had he done? He wanted to follow her, but Marigold had escaped Pearl's clutches and sidled over to him again. Reluctantly he placed an arm around her waist, looking back after Adelaide.

* * *

The next two weeks were very enjoyable. Frodo spent most of his time with Merry and Pippin, who were delighted to take him around on adventurous paths through the Old Forest. They had picnics together and smoked together and had enormously enjoyable conversations. When there were parties and socials at the Hall, they played with the younger children, told stories, and joined in the dancing. They sat down for advice and conversation with the elders, teased the lasses, and spied on their favorites from secret places that Merry knew quite well. The lads were well-off in their entertainment. As for Adelaide, she forgot entirely about her anger and pain and heartache, which was soon washed away and healed by the constant attention of the other lasses who did not leave her alone for a single second. They played games with each other and with the children, helped in the community baking, went swimming in the river, hiked everywhere, enjoyed picnics, danced in the orchards, and flirted shamelessly with the lads. Adelaide was somewhat flattered to have Meliot hanging around her as often as he could for a chance to hear more tales about sharks, but after she had related the entire plot of _Jaws_, Adelaide couldn't think of any more and enthralled him with new stories about grizzly-bear attacks (which she knew much more about). The lasses teased her unmercifully about Meliot, but she didn't care, so long as they didn't tease her about Frodo. Only Pearl gave her a knowing smile and wink, and Adelaide just sighed in helpless frustration.

The times they did come into contact with each other were not awkward as she thought they might be. Adelaide had spent so much time with Frodo already that she was not uncomfortable—except when Marigold was around. And she made sure she was around, particularly if Adelaide was in the area. An unspoken rivalry had begun between the hobbit and the American. It was clear as daylight to Marigold that whenever Frodo looked at Adelaide, there was something in his gaze that meant more than just friendship, and the same thing was true of Adelaide when she looked at Frodo. But it was also clear that neither of them had any idea that the other was in love. Marigold therefore made it a priority to separate Frodo from Adelaide as often as possible and to press her own charms upon him. He was polite to her and—she thought vainly—attracted by her beauty, but her constant attention and simpering began to get on his nerves.

"Pippin, something must be done," Merry announced. "It's all your fault for bringing Marigold!"

"I thought he LIKED her," Pippin protested.

"He likes Adelaide now, I've TOLD you that."

"But Marigold is prettier than she is, and besides, Adelaide's not a hobbit."

"Who cares what she is? Frodo's in love with her, and besides, I would date Adelaide as opposed to Marigold any day. Marigold's got the intellect of a walnut. At least Addy has some brains and energy."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"Step One has been accomplished," Merry said with some pride. "We separated Adelaide and Adelard, and got Frodo to come along. Now we have to get Frodo away from Marigold."

"And just how are we going to do that?"

"I have an idea," Merry said. "But you can't let Frodo know that we're both onto him. He's already a bit prickled that I discovered his secret, and if he figures out that you know, too, he'll be so embarrassed that he'll probably run all the way back to Bag End and hide beneath his bed."

* * *

Frodo was beginning to feel a need to return to Bag End. He and Adelaide had already stayed for three weeks at Brandy Hall, and he missed his home very much. But when he told Adelaide his plan to return, she shrugged and told him he could go if he liked; she was staying with the Brandybucks because they liked her company and she was having a damn good time. Frodo, rather hurriedly, told her that he wanted her to come back home with him; but when he saw storm clouds gather on the horizon, he quickly dispatched himself to the kitchens before Mt. Vesuvius exploded. Adelaide did not want to leave. She had been asked to help plan and organize the Early Summer Fest, and she was not leaving until it was finished. So Frodo, feeling homesick—and pestered to death by Marigold—agreed to stay for the rest of the time so long as Adelaide promised to come home with him after the party.

"I don't get it," Adelaide snapped angrily. "Why do you want me to come with you? Surely Bag End could survive without a woman's touch for at least another week or so. You don't have to have me around. I'd think you'd be a little happy to have the Emotional Rollercoaster out of your life for a while."

He did not tell her that he would have endured anything she threw his way if only she would come back with him and he had her safe and sound. Bag End would not be the same without her; it never was. She was a part of his home and the life he lived there. So when she grumpily agreed to come back with him, it was all he could do to keep from cheering and soaring right through the roof.

A few days later, it came time for the planning of the Early Summer Fest, an annual Brandybuck celebration of summer, and an excuse for partying and feasting. The late summer fest was always held out on the green lawn by the Brandywine and was usually arranged by a group of elderly hobbit women and their young female wards. Adelaide was among those who had organized the festivities to include games, dancing, the banquet tables, and other merriments. She in particular had put in the idea to have a table of floral arrangements that could be judged, like those seen at the Alaska State Fair. Since hobbits loved gardening, this was the chance to show off some of their most beautiful flower bouquets and arrangements. The party always took place at midday and carried well on into midnight before it was abandoned for sleep, and then cleaned up the next day. From sunup to sundown, the group of matrons and lasses could be seen scurrying around the lawn putting up banners and setting out tables. Hobbits came bringing wheelbarrows of food and barrels of ale. There were tents set up and settings laid and food set out. The weather was fair enough, although the Gaffer complained that he felt a twitch in his left hand, which certainly meant that the fest might be rained upon. However, no rain clouds rolled in on the morning of, and the day dawned bright and clear. Sunshine poured down on the little party. Hobbits from all over the Shire attended, the majority of them coming in from Hobbiton and Bywater, and even a few all the way from Buckland and Tuckborough. Everyone agreed that the food was magnificent, the songs were exceptionally good, the dancing was outrageously splendid, and the games were incredibly fabulous. The judging for the floral arrangements went badly at first because the judges could not decide which arrangement was the pretties, so in the end, everyone received blue ribbons, and everyone was satisfied.

Frodo found, to his consternation, that Marigold wanted him as an escort and had eyes for no one else. The situation was very discomforting, but what else could he do? Bilbo had raised him properly, and so he meekly asked Marigold for the honor of accepting the position by her side all evening long. Marigold tossed her head proudly and gave him the honor…and from then on, she gave Adelaide the dirtiest, most triumphant looks that she could possibly give another girl. Adelaide, however, was too tired to care. She had her work cut out for her in planning the party, although Pearl said flatly that the whole thing ought to come crashing down around Marigold's little pink ears.

"Oh, I don't give a shit who he goes out with," Adelaide stormed. "Besides, he's the smartass. He'll figure it out: Marigold's basically a pretty face with a head full of oatmeal." But Adelaide was trying to come to terms with her own situation as best she could. After all, perhaps she wasn't meant to have a relationship in Middle Earth. She didn't fully understand Tolkien's world, so maybe she could just be friends with everyone and eventually go back home to America and marry a lawyer, or something. The relationship with Adelard had been a disaster, and good luck trying to wriggle any sort of emotion out of Mr. Baggins. She sighed moodily—but when Merry offered to be her escort, she did not refuse. He was handsome and she had a lot of fun with him, and he was obviously not a douchebag like Adelard—what's more, Merry was not in love with Adelaide, nor she with him, and it was pleasant just to receive his playful attentions. They were only teasing each other, and no harm to either side.

The party turned out to be grand fun. Adelaide completely forgot about being tired and irritated, and danced with everyone she possibly could. Why not? It was such fun to be complimented and flattered. Marigold didn't have the sense to put together a party, and Adelaide did, so that made her feel proud and confident that she was the smarter person. She was not going to let anyone spoil her fun! Merry and Pippin were inseparable, as always, so she bounced back and forth between the two of them, dancing with one here and another there, and still getting swept off her feet for more reels and waltzes. And when she was tired of dancing, she heaped her plate high and sat down amid a throng of admirers and good friends and laughed and chatted until her throat felt raw. She ate like a horse and delivered some wonderful, witty remarks. She felt free again and independent, an island unto herself proudly flying her stars and stripes. There was no one who could possibly rain on her parade!

Then she saw Frodo and Marigold.

The hobbit lass was dressed in a gorgeous skirt of bright yellow and a tightly-laced green corset that accented well her hour-glass figure. Dark curls tumbled around her bare shoulders, and a yellow scarf was tied around her head with a bunch of marigolds tucked away behind her ear. Her violet eyes dazzled spectators, and her creamy white skin glowed as dusk fell. Adelaide grudgingly admitted that Frodo had good taste in women's appearance, although she was still very aware that he couldn't possibly love her mind. Marigold was like an unintelligent life form from Mars, or something. She never had anything to say besides making the hobbit lads feel that their family jewels were ten times the size they should have been. And here she was, hanging on Frodo's arm like Cleopatra on Marc Antony, proud as a peacock and being quite loud and obnoxious, as though everyone was supposed to notice them and give them the time of day! Adelaide thought that Marigold and Adelard might make a very good pair. They were both annoying and full of hot air.

But she was jealous as hell.

Adelaide looked down at her own party clothes—borrowed, and not quite the nice quality that Marigold had. She had swept her hair back into a ponytail, and once again felt like a "pinhead" amidst the beautiful, full heads of curly hair that tumbled naturally and luxuriously over shoulders and bosoms. Adelaide felt ridiculously untidy and not at all pretty. Her face burned when Marigold deliberately steered Frodo over to her, and she felt like she could claw that yogurt-smooth skin with pleasure until blood ran. Marigold's voice dripped with contempt. "Goodness, Addy, all by yourself tonight? Where's your escort? Ah, too bad he's still running around like a little boy in the hay fields. You really ought to try landing yourself a more…respectable beau, like I have."

Adelaide raised one eyebrow at Frodo. "What, you mean Mr. I-Can't-Run-Bag-End-By-Myself-Baggins? I'll keep that sage advice in mind."

Frodo's eyes pleaded with Adelaide for help, but her eyes were cold and merciless, and she twitched her nose by way of saying "Dummy. It's your own damn fault for leading a girl on the way you do!" He was thoroughly miserable from being dragged around like a toy for kindergarten show-and-tell, and he could not bear the incredulous gaze of Merry, who was shaking his head in disappointment. Pearl looked like she was going to murder someone. Meliot was seated by Adelaide and refused to budge, his arm around her waist, his eyes daring Frodo to do something. And there was Adelaide, all the time, enjoying herself as she always did, her ponytail bouncing while she danced, her eyes sparkling as her smile and laughter filled the air and mingled with the laughter of the other hobbits. It wasn't fair! How on earth was it possible that she could feel so much freedom and joy, and he felt imprisoned and guilty? Frodo felt frustrated and then infuriated. He could feel his temper rising, and that wasn't good. Marigold kept tight hold of his arm, and only her presence reminded him of the scandal he would cause if he ripped away from her and left her without an escort. But he kept looking about for Adelaide; eventually the sight of her calmed him, and he was able to enjoy the party, even with Marigold squeezing all the blood from his arm.

It was close to eleven o'clock in the evening when Frodo decided that he'd had enough. Marigold whined and begged him not to leave her. It wasn't fair, she complained. She was just beginning to have a nice time, and she wanted to continue dancing.

"You're welcome to any lad you choose," Frodo said. "But I'm dreadfully tired."

"Oh, alright," she pouted. "But you will call on me tomorrow, won't you? Of course you will! You're a darling, Frodo, did you know that?" She had drawn him back by a tent where they were quite alone, and Frodo began to feel nervous. He tried to pull away, but she clasped his hands between hers and pressed herself closely to him. "I feel about you unlike any other," she whispered. "We used to be sweethearts, Frodo. You would chase me around, don't you remember? Why don't you chase me, as you used to?"

"I'm a little old to be chasing anyone," he said truthfully.

"Then there is no other? You love me? Oh, if you say 'no,' you'll go and break my poor little heart," she pouted that wet lower lip, and Frodo felt helpless once more. Why did lasses have to make things so difficult? He wanted to tell her "no" because he didn't love her at all, but if he knew Marigold, he knew that she would scream and make trouble for him. Better that he kissed her quickly and was done with it.

Marigold lifted herself upwards. "Do kiss me," she whispered, the lovely black lashes lowering seductively over those violet eyes. Her lips were full and warm, and her little hands squeezed his with ardor. Frodo felt a haze sweep over him, and just as he leaned in towards her—

CRASH!

The startled hobbits leapt backwards. Adelaide stood there, hands on her hips, a broken flower-pot at her feet. "Whoops," she said dryly. "Butterfingers." Then she turned and marched out of the tent.

Whether she had meant to do that on purpose or not was not the issue. Frodo snapped back into reality. Why, what was he DOING? What was he THINKING? He dropped Marigold's hands quickly, shock and alarm in his eyes. He couldn't do this to her. He didn't love Marigold; he could not kiss her, could not give her what she wanted from him! He could not lie to her. She was a beautiful lass, of course, and he would always respect that, but Adelaide held all his heart, and he wanted her more than any other lass in the entire world.

The look in his eye was all the lass needed. Marigold faced him with such an ugly glare of hatred that it was possible Frodo flinched.

"You dirty—you low-down—ill-bred—you ill-mannered cad!" She struck him across the face. "So there IS someone else, and it's that fast piece of baggage! I should have known you'd fall in love with trash like her—someone as uppity and self-righteous as your precious self!" she taunted. "Think you're so high-and-mighty, so rich and better than anyone else? You'll suit her fine, I'm sure!"

Frodo had never heard Marigold speak so rudely, and it startled him. She was in a fine temper now, working herself up into a fit of hysteria. "You led me on, you cad, you boor…you made me think you loved me…you gave me all the signs…why didn't you just tell me? How dare you play with me like that? I'll tell my pa about you, and he'll run your name down until it's worthless as mud, do you hear me? You'll never hold your head up in Hobbiton again. No lass is going to look twice at you, and every lad and his father will be ready to beat you senseless if you dare show your face around town ever again! I hate you! I hope she rips your heart to shreds and feeds it to the dogs! I hope your life with her is miserable! I hope…I hope…" Marigold burst into tears and fled, leaving Frodo quite in shock and very helpless.

Outside, Merry and Pippin watched Marigold running away, and they clinked their beer mugs together.

"Here's to the success of the future Mr. and Mrs. Baggins," Merry said. "Good work, Pip, sending Adelaide on over to spoil the fun."

"I think she enjoyed it," Pippin said with a grin. "She's never been fond of Marigold."

"I thought she's throw it straight at her head."

"So what's the next step?"

"Prolonging the visit, Pip. Prolonging the visit."

* * *

Marigold departed Brandy Hall like a cyclone out of Kansas, leaving in her wake a disaster of very confused and upset hobbits. Frodo, of course, was both ashamed and embarrassed, while Mr. and Mrs. Saradoc Brandybuck wondered what in the world could have happened to upset Marigold so badly. But after she had left, a sigh of relief went around, the party was cleaned up, and life went back to normal. Frodo was pleased to be out of target-range, and doubly pleased now to have nobody hanging on his arm or interrupting him every time he went to go look for Adelaide. She hadn't changed; in fact, she seemed very cheerful that Marigold was gone, and told Frodo so.

"She was getting annoying. Besides, you looked positively fucked-up," she burst out laughing. "Irritated, cranky, melancholy…she was bringing you down, and you know it."

"Perhaps," he said cautiously. "But we did use to be childhood sweethearts."

"Huh, well, she may look like Liz Taylor, but she's got the brains of a goldfish. And don't tell me that isn't true. You were bored out of your skull. Come on, let's go for a swim. Merry and Pippin invited us, and I'm racing Pervinca. You can be my cheerleader, okay?"

The day was warm. The Brandywine sparkled like a glittering ribbon in the midst of the green land and sunny summer haze. Frodo, Merry, and Pippin lounged on the shore watching the lasses race and splash each other. But Frodo couldn't take his eyes of Adelaide. Like the other lasses, she had to wear some kind of shift to keep her body modest while there were lads around, but the water made her clothes cling to every curve of flesh, a sight that set his mind on fire.

"Frodo," Merry said casually. "Why not stay here the rest of the summer? Bag End is all locked up and squared away nicely, isn't it? You and Adelaide could stay until the end of August."

"Thank you," Frodo said quickly. "But we have plans to leave shortly—in fact, at the end of this week."

"Oh, surely not," Merry said smoothly. "You haven't had time to—well, she hasn't kissed you yet, has she?"

Frodo shook his head and looked down at the water's edge. Adelaide was coming up for air, her long hair slicked back and dark against her head, and her white shift clinging provocatively to every curve she possessed. Frodo shifted his body, feeling a familiar twitch in his groin. Merry smiled and waved down to the lasses. "Well, if you're set on it, at least wait until Saturday so we can see you off properly. Mum has been adamant about keeping her around at least for one more community baking."

Frodo did a mental calculation. If he left on Saturday, that gave him about five days left with Adelaide at Brandy Hall, five precious days without Marigold, Adelard, or even Meliot. Bag End could survive five days more, he was certain. He looked out at the river again, his eyes fastened on Adelaide, who was smiling and cheerful, holding aloft some kind of river-clam in triumph and showing it to the others. Yes, five days more to enjoy her company at Brandy Hall…why not? He could finally have a chance with Adelaide alone, somewhere private. Perhaps she'd sprain her ankle on a run during a picnic and he'd bandage it for her. Or maybe he might have to pick her up to help her reach a book. Or suppose he'd have a chance to catch her if she accidentally fell out of a tree! Frodo savored the fantasy. She would blush so prettily and stammer her thanks and caress his cheek and say, 'Adelard would NEVER have done that,' and he could jauntily reply that Adelard hadn't any breeding, and then she might say, "I'm glad I have you around, Frodo. You've always looked after me,' and then, when he kissed her, she would be very feminine and flutter and scold him, telling him he was too bold, but then he would kiss her again and she would "let go of all thought" and beg him to do things to her…

"He's lost," Merry turned to Pippin. "Completely, totally, irreversibly, insanely lost."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"We have five days to work a miracle. All we have to do is get the two of them together—and alone."

* * *

Unfortunately for Merry's plan, Adelaide was NEVER left alone. To Frodo's horror and dismay, the girls at Brandy Hall kept tight hold of the lass, and to make matters worse, Adelaide did not seem to mind. She loved spending time with them, and, while she enjoyed time with the lads, preferred to keep her girl time sacred. Frodo rarely had a second alone with Adelaide before a couple girls or more would come giggling onto the scene and sweep Adelaide away to play games and pranks. And she enjoyed it! Frodo's heart twisted in frustration. He might as well not exist! He might as well go back to Bag End; she wouldn't miss him a bit! But Frodo misunderstood Adelaide's intentions; she had not wanted him to stay for her sake but for his own. Adelaide saw that he wasn't sleeping, barely eating, and very distracted and moody, but she did not know that he was pining for her. All she knew was that Frodo needed some cheering up, and she thought that some time at Brandy Hall would do it. But Frodo became even more miserable. How on earth was it possible to be so close to the girl you adored—on holiday, no less!—and yet so far away because a loop of lasses pulled her away every time you got close enough to say "hello"?

Merry figured that something had to be done, and fast.

He knew that Plan A was going to involve a bit of violence, but at least nobody was going to die.

Plan A involved "accidentally" slamming the door against Adelaide's nose.

She fell backwards with a shriek, and blood fountained everywhere. Merry immediately rushed to her side in a fit of desperation. Pippin, who was not far behind, and knew all about Plan A, ran to get "help"; namely, Frodo. The Master of Bag End arrived on the scene to find Adelaide sitting on the ground with huge tears rolling down her cheeks, and her nose gushing blood like water from a hole in the dam. She was leaning forward and holding a wad of handkerchiefs to her nose, pinching it to stop the bleeding.

"Adelaide, are you alright?" Frodo flew down to her side in a panic and Merry and Pippin hastily made an exit, hiding behind the door to watch the outcome. Adelaide squeezed her eyes shut, wiped away her tears with one hand, and nodded. Frodo put an arm around her back and held the tissues close to her nose. What bliss, to touch her so comfortingly! If only he could hold her closer and kiss her head and tell her that everything was going to be alright! She looked like such a little child; he wanted to make everything better and then cuddle her. He tenderly stroked her hair and tried to tilt her chin up. "I think you should tip your head back—"

"DOE!" Adelaide snapped. "Wad are you drying d'do, choke be? Id's jus' a liddle dose-bleed. Dod you doe addyding aboud firs' aid? Stoobid! Ad stop shubbing de rags ub by dose!"

She pushed him away furiously, got to her feet, and marched off, still holding the handkerchiefs to her nose. Pippin sighed.

"What's Plan B?"

* * *

Plan B did not involve any violence because clearly it put Adelaide in a very bad mood when she had to depend on anyone for support. Instead, Merry had the bright idea to put Hero and Damsel together as a pair in the kitchen for community baking.

Merry did not know, however, that Frodo was not exactly Martha Stewart. Adelaide did, and she groaned at the thought of having to teach Frodo how to bake cinnamon rolls. But she gritted her teeth and held her patience, and luckily the result was not badly burnt. But it was not a romantic episode, nor did Adelaide appear to be very affectionate to her flour-covered, potential beau.

It was old Saradoc, Merry's father, who finally caught on to the scheme and gleefully suggested Plan C: the chance meeting in the library. Brandy Hall had a small library and Adelaide often retreated there when she needed some quiet time. Saradoc thought it would be very romantic to catch Adelaide during that time. So they waited quietly until Adelaide wandered in, intent on some peace and quiet. Fifteen minutes later, she rolled her eyes in disgust as Pippin invited Frodo in, intent on showing him a book of fairy tales that he might be interested in. Pippin had a naturally loud voice that became like the deafening roar of a lion in the small, quiet space of the library, and Adelaide turned venomous eyes on them both. Frodo, who saw the eyes and knew what was coming next, opted to try and slip away. But Pippin kept trying to hold his attention. Finally, Adelaide snapped her book shut angrily and marched away to go sit by the river and get some 'lone-time. Saradoc was delighted.

"Tell Frodo to go apologize to her!" he whispered to Pippin.

But Frodo came back with very sore eardrums. Apparently, she had yelled loud enough to wake the dead: "FRODO BAGGINS, I AM TRYING TO HAVE SOME PEACE AND FUCKING QUIET! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

By the time Plan J came along, poor Frodo was almost in tears because of Adelaide's abuse, and Adelaide was ready to kill someone because clearly, someone was trying to ruin her summer vacation by making her nose bleed, disrupting her quiet time, telling her who to dance with, and separating her from all her girlfriends. Saradoc finally told his son sternly to stop trying to "set them up" and let life happen naturally, which, of course, Merry was loathe to do. It was clear as daylight that Frodo ought to be courting Adelaide and they needed a chance to do it—or for Frodo to at least say the three magic words that were the key to every girl's heart. But for the last few weeks before the summer ended, Merry and Pippin only watched and schemed, trying desperately to think of a way to make things work.

One night before bed, as the Brandybucks and kin sat around the fire and listened to Saradoc telling a story, the sound of thunder rolled in overhead, and the sudden flash of lightning made a couple lasses scream. Adelaide jumped in surprise. She liked thunderstorms, but for some reason, Brandy Hall did not have the same kind of sound-proofed walls that Bag End did, and this was her first time listening to thunder as a small person. The sudden crash of thunder and jagged split of lightning across the sky frightened her, and she huddled closer to Celandine, who was also very frightened. It was decided that the evening was too distracted by thunder to continue the story, and everyone was reluctantly sent off to bed.

"There will be a bucket of water in the kitchen for anyone who might like a drink," Saradoc announced. "Sometimes a good drink of water helps to calm the nerves during a thunderstorm."

"Adelaide, would you like one?" Pippin asked, trying to be kind.

"No, thank you."

"Ooh, I want one," Celandine sniffed. Adelaide nudged her.

"No, you don't. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just thunder. Thunder never killed anyone."

"But lightning does," Celandine wailed. "My grandfather used to tell me the story of how his best friend got struck while climbing a tree, and his hair stood on end like this!" Celandine demonstrated, and Adelaide immediately became practical and protective.

"Don't be stupid, Dinny. If he was climbing a tree, no wonder he got struck. You're not supposed to climb or stand under a tree in a thunderstorm. We're underground; lightning does not touch ground often. There's nothing to be afraid of. Now come on, I'll sleep beside you tonight in the girls' common room and I'll sing you a lullaby. I know lots of good ones." She stuck her tongue out at Pippin. "Quit scaring people and go do something useful with your life, okay?"

* * *

The thunderstorm continued well on into the night, but while most of the hobbits were used to the noise and fell asleep right away (even Celandine, who quickly forgot her fears and started snoring in Adelaide's ear and drooling on her nightgown), Frodo was not quite used to it and decided to see if HE might take up Pippin's offer for some water. The kitchen was dark, except for the occasional flash of lightning, and silent except for the sound of rain outside as it poured down in thunderous torrents. The wind howled, and Frodo thanked the heavens that he was safe underground and warm, the way a hobbit ought to be. He was heading back to his room when Adelaide smacked into him, spilling water all the way down the front of his nightshirt.

"Oh, Frodo, I'm so sorry!" Adelaide whispered. "Oh, Lord, I am so sorry…holy crap, I ought not barge around without a flashlight."

"What are you doing up?" he asked, oblivious to the water. Adelaide was wringing her hands—a very un-Adelaide-like thing to do! She was nervous! Frodo set his empty cup down and took hold of her hands to steady them. "Lass, are you alright?"

"I—I—well, I thought I'd get Dinny a drink of water," Adelaide stammered.

"Dinny? Are you sure you're not getting one for yourself?"

"Don't be presumptuous. Where's the kitchen? God Almighty, I can't see ANYTHING at night. You've got eyes like a cat. Come on, lead the way."

He led her easily. "You're not afraid, are you?"

"Don't be stupid. I've never been afraid of a storm in my whole life. Why, my parents and I moved up from Oklahoma to Virginia during a fucking hurricane! I'm just—I mean, Vinny asked me for some water, so I told her I'd get her some."

"You're so very kind." There was sarcasm in his voice. "Take care you don't splash water all over her in your fright."

"I am NOT scared."

"Lass, you're trembling like a leaf."

"That's because it's cold," Adelaide snapped. "And anyway, who asked you?"

"What's got into you, Adelaide?" Frodo asked in astonishment as Adelaide ladled water into a cup. "Has something upset you?"

"That'll be none of your business, thank you very damn much!" Adelaide stared at the cup for a few minutes and then drank deeply, grateful for the soothing coolness over her throat. Frodo watched her with amusement when suddenly a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, illuminating the entire kitchen. Adelaide jumped and would have dropped her cup had not Frodo quickly caught it and placed it back into her trembling hands.

"That was bright," Adelaide said shakily. She swallowed and tried not to show how frightened she really was. "You know, the padding in the walls here is different than that at Bag End; the noise is so damn loud the whole hall shakes."

"It must feel very different if you live in a house above-ground, and at your normal height."

She looked at him strangely. The darkness masked the emotion in her eyes and he could not tell if she was grateful, confused, or upset. "It is extremely different. In a house, you can see the lightning from your window when it comes down out of the sky. And being bigger does make a difference. My ears hurt badly—I think it's because they're not hobbit ears. You told me once that the shape of your ear actually helps to muffle sharp, loud sounds. Mine don't, even with a pillow over them, and now that they're smaller, it hurts even more."

"Poor lass," Frodo reached out and touched her ear in genuine sympathy. "You're a bit lost among us sometimes, aren't you?"

Adelaide seemed embarrassed at having spilled so much ridiculous, childish misery. "Not at all. It's just that sometimes I have inconveniences."

"You have a defense for everything, don't you?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You really don't like feeling helpless or weak," Frodo told her with a chuckle. "Admit it, lass; you're afraid of the storm."

She bristled. "And so what if I am? It's none of your business. What are you going to do, give me some earmuffs and some warm milk and then pat my back until I fall asleep? Why should you care if I'm scared or not?"

"Why should YOU?" he challenged.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, why did you feel you had to lie to me and tell me you weren't afraid? Just because you hate feeling weak? Adelaide, I don't care if you're weak. It's actually quite charming when you admit defeat and raise your little white flag of surrender. Quite feminine."

"I've heard enough." Adelaide started to walk away. "Good-night, Frodo."

"You forgot Dinny's drink," Frodo teased her. Adelaide came back, glaring. She filled the cup again—and promptly threw it down the front of his nightshirt. Frodo yelped, and Adelaide allowed herself a smug smile.

"That's for being a smartass," she said. "Good-night."

She had not gone several paces when an enormous crack of thunder made her jump and clap both hands over her sensitive ears in pain. Instantly she felt Frodo by her side, his warm arms encircling her and holding her close. She buried her face into his chest, heedless of his soaking nightshirt, and he stroked her hair. "Shh-hh, it's alright, honey. You're safe. Is it your ears? Would you like some cotton? Bilbo used to stick pieces in my ears when I was younger. It really helps." The warmth of her body against his was like the glow of a candle, piercing the darkness and warming the chill of his wet nightshirt. He held her close to savor that warmth, and she did not wriggle away. After a few minutes, Adelaide took a deep, shaky breath.

"I'll be alright. I don't want any cotton in my ear. Please help me back to my room; it's too dark for me to see properly."

She was waving that charming little white flag, and Frodo responded the way a gentlehobbit should: he led her back to the common room that all the girls slept in on the floor with mattresses and blankets and pillows, like a giant sleepover party. He paused outside the door and looked at Adelaide. Her nose twitched, and she looked up him.

"I really am sorry for dumping water on you. But you're so damn mean."

"I try not to be," he said softly.

"I know."

"I was only teasing a bit."

"I know."

She was still very close beside him, her arm looped beneath his. Frodo felt her fingers slide over his wrist and hand in a gentle caress, and he started to breathe heavily, as if realizing for the first time that this girl, the lass he adored, was standing in his arms while a thunderstorm raged outside. It was cold and wet out there, but warm and safe inside the stronghold of a hobbit hole, even if the soundproofing was not very good. And then he realized, much to his surprise, that Adelaide's heart was racing, pounding hard against his chest. He lifted a hand and cupped her strong, smooth cheek. No, this young lady was frightened of nothing but what was born in her own mind. The storm itself was not frightening, but she made it frightening because she was so small and for some reason she imagined herself as slight and helpless. In that instant, Frodo felt a thrill of delight: Adelaide wanted to be helpless; she wanted someone to take care of her, not like Adelard did because he thought her a beautiful plaything, but because she was who she was—a young woman with delicate human ears who just didn't like being startled by all that noise. And then, abruptly, Frodo leaned down and kissed her.

Everything inside of him exploded to life as if a miniature Gandalf had lit a thousand fireworks inside his body. Her lips were warm and full and sweet and wet from her earlier drink. Frodo had been waiting to taste the ripeness of her lips for months and now he delved into them with a hungry, passionate frenzy, clutching her body to him with inflamed desire. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, pushing insistently and eagerly to taste the full bounty. He wanted to bury himself within her, to dive into the lush richness of her body and permeate the whole of her being with his own, to possess her without a second thought. Oh Valar, he had never imagined in all his days that kissing a lass—particularly THIS lass—could be so delicious, so pleasurable, so fulfilling! Her cheeks were soft in his hands, her warm mouth willing against his. And how her heart pounded! And she wasn't pulling away! Frodo almost fainted with pleasure when he heard her give a soft, throaty moan, and he broke from her lips to favor the rest of her face with his eager attention, his mouth traveling over her eyelid and up over her eyebrow, over her forehead, down her cheek, beneath her chin, sliding his tongue over her jaw, kissing her smooth, elegant throat. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, to know every piece of her as though she had been made for him.

When he finally broke and came up for air, Adelaide stared at him.

"What in hell was that all about?"

He grabbed her and kissed her again. If she wasn't getting the point, he would have to drive it home using any means possible, including his extremely uncomfortable erection that stabbed between the flimsy layers of their nightclothes and rubbed between her legs. He wanted to wait, wanted to be patient, but she was driving him absolutely crazy. What in hell, indeed! He clutched her fiercely and protectively, his lips gorging on her sweetness and plundering the delights of her soft mouth. With one hand he held her close, and with the other, he pressed up against her bosom and rubbed his finger over the tip of her nipple. He felt it harden beneath his fingers, and she gave another soft moan. There! He'd made her excited; made her admit that she wanted him—

"Frodo—will you please!—we're in the middle of—the fucking hallway—could we please—I'm tired and I want—I want—Oh God, please—I want—"

His hand moved down over the cotton nightdress and felt over her belly, hips, and thighs, and then upwards to stab and rub at the—OH DEAR SWEET VALAR.

He wasn't the only one with soaked clothing.

She twitched her nose in an effort to be furious and irritated, but he knew better. She wasn't saying anything to stop him; she was doing nothing to push him away; she wasn't scolding or hitting or lashing out. Frodo kept his eyes fixed on Adelaide's face as he pulled up the hem of her nightgown and stroked his finger between her legs. Her "Alaskan undies" were the only barrier, and they were damp with heat and moisture. He could feel the soft flesh beneath, scorching through the cloth and burning his hand and tearing his brain into shreds until there was nothing in his mind except a huge, unsatisfied desire that blurred his vision. He wanted to touch it, touch the naked flesh inside her; he moved the cloth aside and slid his finger up between the wet silken folds that drew him in and pulsated over him. He saw her lips part slightly, her head tip backwards slightly, and her chest heave; her heart was going at the speed of a locomotive, pounding harder and harder as he deepened the thrust of his finger, forcing himself all the way inside her. He thought his own heart might pound out of his chest, he was breathing so hard. She was tight and moist, and if he looked into her face he could imagine that it wasn't his finger but something else that was doing the honors…

He kissed her again, pulling her nightgown up further around her hips. He guided her hands upward until her fingers touched the hem of her undies. She pulled them down and kicked them off behind her, aware and yet unaware of her actions. She barely felt him pull his own nightshirt up around his waist and press her close to him as he attacked her face with his lips, kissing her as if he'd never stop, his rock-hard erection stabbing between her legs. The moment his maleness touched her luscious, hot, wet femininity, Frodo whimpered and knew that he was lost. There was no going back now. She wanted him, he knew it, just as he wanted her, and the only obstruction was the open-aired hallway. He couldn't take her here, not standing up, not like this, not when his legs were about to give out.

"Come with me," he whispered hoarsely. "Please, my lass, please come with me."

She took hold of his hand and let him pull her back to his guest quarters. He had been sharing with Merry and Pippin; what a blessing that they had volunteered to sleep elsewhere! He had the entire room to himself, and the minute the door was shut and locked, he pulled off his nightshirt in one fluid movement and came to her, pulling the nightgown around her shoulders, kissing each part of her as the cloth melted away like sugar in water, the firm flesh real and warm beneath his tongue and fingers. He undid hooks and buttons, sliding his fingers between seams and cracks, pulling the nightgown down around her waist. His trembling hands cupped her breasts, fingers rubbing and caressing one nipple and then the other. She was soft and smooth, and smelled like the good, wholesome fragrance of clean laundry, fresh paper, and ripened summertime strawberries. Another shove, and the nightgown fell unheeded to the floor in a white pool around her ankles. Frodo gasped, sucking in air as if he'd been struck. Her body gleamed white even in the dark, for the parts she never exposed to sunlight were as soft and white as new milk, while her legs and arms were softly browned. It was a beautiful body, strong where needed and soft in all the right feminine places. Frodo's legs could barely hold him as he stared at her, his body going numb. He stammered something about "adorable," but she twitched her nose at this. Nonsense. Her body was anything but adorable. But whatever she thought, Frodo was not going to let her spoil his vision by a bunch of "practical hubbub." She was beautiful to him and to herself, and that's all that mattered.

He felt her blush sharply when he pressed his naked body against hers and kissed her reddened cheek. Her timidity aroused him, and he kissed her again, moving her backwards towards his bed. She sat down on the white sheets, and he put one knee up by her thigh, straddling her, his kisses becoming hot and passionate again. She kissed him back with the same fervent ardor, her mind spinning and pushing all thoughts of morality and religion and personal qualms aside. She loved him, had always loved him, even if he couldn't bake cinnamon rolls or when he disturbed her quiet time. He had always been there for her, listening to her, offering his shoulder to cry on, taking her abuse and anger, challenging her mind, lifting her spirits, making her smile, looking after her best interests. Their minds were like the wheels of a clock; they fit together and worked smoothly because they were so alike in heart and mind and soul and yet were different enough to balance each other out. This was what had blocked her mind for months with Adelard; this was the reason she had never let him do more than kiss her; she had not really been in love with him. All that time she had been hoping and praying that it might be Frodo, even if he was a storybook character. Storybook? Heck, this was as good as it got. If it was a dream, Adelaide hoped to the dear sweet Lord that she'd never wake up.

Frodo pressed her back against the sheets and pillows, kicking back the comforter and enjoying the sensations of flesh moving against flesh on the bed. His lips traveled down to her soft white breast and the pert nipple he had aroused earlier. His tongue was impatient as he tasted her, taking her into his mouth and suckling deeply, making her gasp and clutch at his head. She was soft and supple beneath him, her body alive and passionate, and he responded to it with the life in his own body, doing things to her that he thought might please her, for certainly it felt marvelous to stroke his fingers beneath her ribs and over her hips, and it felt even better to cup his hand over the flaming heat of her body's core. She moaned a little louder and begged him, with his name on her lips, to do SOMETHING, for God's sake. He lost himself in the frenzy of hearing his name in conjunction with her eager plea. He spread her legs and moved between her thighs, pressing himself up at her entrance. He saw her wince slightly in pain, her breath intake like the hiss of an angry rattler.

But Frodo did not heed the warning, did not heed the very real sign that this was a virgin he was about to deflower. He loved Adelaide, adored her, wanted to give her everything, make her his wife and his only love in the whole wide world, and he wanted to keep her close like his most treasured possession. He pulled her hips closer, curled himself between her thighs, and thrust deeply. Pain shot through her body like a knife, but she sealed her lips, squeezed her eyes shut, and gripped a pillow, twisting it this way and that. Then Frodo's lips grazed her ear, and she heard his husky, gentle voice: "Relax, my lass. I'll try not to hurt you." Adelaide whimpered. Good Lord, those stupid 25-cent romance novels had LIED. First-time sex was damned painful, and Frodo was lucky Adelaide didn't slug him the first time around. He was even luckier that she didn't yell, although his thrust drove the wind out of her, and she gave a half-gasp, half-moan, which she stifled by drawing the sheets up to her mouth. She was stiff and unsettled. "Shhh, hush, lass, I'm sorry," Frodo spoke softly, soothingly, stroking her hair. "Hush, love. There you are. See, it will be better in a moment. I promise." He spoke not from experience, but with the real intention of calming her down. He felt her relax around him as her body became accustomed to the strange intrusion into her body. Frodo began to move rhythmically inside and out, his body meeting hers with slick, wet slaps. He was ecstatic with the delight of being so deeply buried in the rich, fruitful garden of her center; she was warm and moist and so marvelously tight around him; he moaned and kissed her lips again, never wanting to pull out or away. She arched and met him, wrapping her legs around his waist and riding with him as he poured himself into her, releasing the warmth and life of his body into hers. Their cries blended with the thunder outside and the bolts of lightning that shot across the sky.

Then he collapsed upon her, panting heavily. She was cold, and drew the covers over them both, but she did not leave. Her southern regions felt sore and almost dislocated, but the heady feeling of the pleasurable orgasm left her feeling like an angel just bobbing through the air on a sunny day, floating from cloud to cloud. Funny, all the clouds had smiley-faces on them…in fact, the sun even looked strangely like the Wal-Mart smiley-faced logo. Adelaide grinned back stupidly and tiredly. Frodo curled up behind her, draping his arm across her waist and his leg over her thigh. He nuzzled into her hair, kissing her ear and murmuring words of endearment. He felt like the most exalted creature on the face of the earth. Beren couldn't hold a candle to him! He swelled with pride for a split second before yawning. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with…it was wonderful to have Adelaide as his bedfellow. She scooted back into him, cuddling close, and he held her tenderly. No words of love had passed between them, but he sensed that she knew more than what he let on about—after all, he had driven his point home quite intensely.

* * *

The next morning, Frodo awoke to discover that Adelaide was still sleeping peacefully, snuggled up in a fetal position beside him. She was happily sucking a corner of the soft blanket—the best sign he could hope for. Whenever Adelaide sucked her two middle fingers or a piece of a soft blanket, it meant she was as content as a child, free of fear, stress, nightmares, and anything else distressing. He smiled; he couldn't help it. He stroked her hair, feeling her curl up against him even closer, and he tucked in the sheets around them for warmth. Adelaide murmured and sucked the blanket. Abruptly, her nose twitched, and her eyes opened sleepily. She pulled the sodden end of the blanket from her mouth, a little embarrassed. Then she rolled over and met Frodo's eyes.

For a moment, she seemed confused, even a little upset, as if trying to determine just how to behave the morning after her first bout of sex. Geez, how DID people behave? Really, Frodo hadn't said ANYTHING about his feelings; there had been no mutual agreement that "Yes, I love you and you love me and we want to spend the rest of our lives together so let's make love." Everything had been unspoken and understood. But Adelaide felt a little timid and afraid. She had heard of stories about one-night stands from her friends, and she had such a loyal heart that she was afraid it might break if Frodo had just wanted her for a single evening. But when he reached out and stroked her face, smiling at her, his eyes sparkling with life and complete happiness, she realized, all at once, that THIS was what he had wanted all along, for months. He had been restless and heartsick and gloomy and cranky because he'd loved her and wanted her, and she was fulfilling everything about him just by acknowledging his love and returning it.

Suddenly, Adelaide was terrified.

What had she DONE? Oh Dear Sweet Jesus, what had she done? She loved Frodo, and knew that he loved her—that was obvious—but the feeling of guilt from premarital sex overwhelmed her. It was all very well and fine to be caught up in the heat of the moment—but…but…well, so much for saving her virginity until marriage! Oh, he didn't look hatefully at her now, but what if he despised her later? Or what if he broke her heart later, and she married someone else? What was she going to tell her husband on their first night? "I lost my maidenhead to—get this—Frodo Baggins. Isn't that a riot?" The situation did not look happy at all. On top of this, Adelaide's conscience was a bit tender where the sins of lust were concerned, and she knew full well that the Catholic Church forbade sex before marriage—God in His mercy would forgive her, of course, but she wanted to be able to forgive herself. She hated the feeling of guilt and anger. Such things kept a person from moving on, from dealing with the day-to-day practical needs. Her heart pounded, and she felt sick. Oh, how stupid she'd been! What rotten behavior! She might as well go be a prostitute!

Frodo was alarmed when he saw huge, fat tears rolling down his lover's cheeks. With a tender exclamation, he put his arms around her and tried to hold her close, to comfort and soothe her. He did not know why the faucet was running, aside from the fact that perhaps she felt ashamed of having jumped into his bed without any preliminaries. After all, they had not exchanged one word of love, and of course they were not married. The proper thing to have done was to explain his feelings to her and then see if she returned them, and if so, he should have courted her—quickly, of course—and then married her, if she'd have had him. He stammered, tried to apologize, tried to tell her that he loved her so much. She finally wiped tears from her eyes and faced him, still sniffling, her face all blotchy and red.

"But I wanted it, too, and I didn't think—I didn't think. Now I've gone and done something awful, and you're going to think I'm some kind of w-w-w-whore!" She burst into tears again and put her forehead on her knees, her hair falling down around her face like a protective curtain. She had never felt so awful. But instead of flying into a panic, as he normally did when seeing Adelaide distressed, Frodo felt very calm with himself. He loved her to distraction, and he knew her too well to think badly of her. She was struggling with rules, that was all, although it was serious for her. He felt a need to protect her—not to make excuses for her, but to help her in her struggle. She had admitted that she loved him and wanted him, and it was all he could do to keep from cheering.

"Adelaide, listen to me. Honey, I…I…I love you so much. And I know I didn't tell you last night, but I was so caught up with your beauty and your energy and your ferocity of spirit. You…you were like a little child who didn't want to go to bed, stamping your foot in anger, and all because you refused to be frightened by a storm. And I wanted to—to—" he was lost for words. He wanted to protect her, love her, care for her, make everything right for her. He knew that she was used to making life function just fine for herself, but he wanted to take on that responsibility for her—every woman wanted a man who could shoulder the burdens of life and treat her like a queen! She looked up at him, and he brushed aside her hair, kissing her temple gently. "My lass, my darling, adorable lass, I should never have put you in such a compromising situation. But you're not a—a—a bad girl. I flatter myself in thinking that if you agreed to come to me, it's because you wanted me, too." He smiled at her, and was relieved to see her smile a little in return. She suddenly looked very tired.

"I do love you," she said quietly. "I'm just afraid that I made a terrible mistake. If you fall out of love with me, then my heart will be gone and broke, and maybe—maybe by that time there will be a child. But we aren't married. And I don't…I don't want you to hate me," she wailed again. She couldn't lose him. She loved him. She really did. All this time! She hadn't really realized it until Marigold had come along and flirting shamelessly.

"That's you thinking practically," Frodo told her. "And it's one of the reasons I love you. But it may interest you to know that—while there is always the chance I may fall out of love with you—I'll risk taking that chance than keeping myself quiet and never letting you know. Honey, isn't this the risk that all lovers take? I promise I'll not touch you again, if that will make you happy."

Somehow the situation made no sense—and yet made perfect sense. Love was such a fucking oxymoron, and Adelaide had no idea how to handle it. She loved Frodo and wanted him to make love to her over and over again as often as he desired—but wasn't that wrong? Oh, surely not! She started to hiccup.

"Look, you've gone and given yourself the hiccups," Frodo chuckled. "I probably have no right to say this, but I never thought I'd see you struggle so much with your conscience, Adelaide. You are such a strong-willed person; you seem to have so much confidence in yourself."

"Confidence springs from certainty in what you know and believe as truth."

"Why, you're quite philosophical this morning."

Oh, he was going to sit there and make jokes about it! She glared fiercely at him, and to her surprise, Frodo burst out laughing. "There! That looks much more like the Adelaide I know. If you must be practical about it, blow your nose, dry your eyes, and trust me."

"Trusting you is hardly practical. What am I trusting you about?"

"Trust that I love you. Even if you struggle with your own feelings, please trust mine."

Why, that sounded oddly enough like something Jesus might say. How did the Footprint Poem go? "Oh my child, I love you and would never leave you…in those times of uncertainty and trouble, it was then that I carried you." Not that a mortal love was equal to the love between God and man, but it was certainly a reflection. And suddenly, Adelaide's queasiness left her, and her conscience seemed to rest easier, as if God had already forgiven her. After all, Tolkien was Catholic, and hadn't he written the ultimate love story of an Elf and mortal who disregarded law and customs because they loved each other? What if the kind of love found in Middle Earth was different than the love found in the Primary World because Tolkien had fashioned it to reflect God's love for mankind? Couldn't she trust that? Adelaide blushed, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl or a new bride. Oh, what the hell. She was content and very, very happy. Frodo stroked her cheek.

"There, there, honey. I love you so much. Please tell me you love me, too. I don't think I could bear it if you didn't."

"I do love you," she repeated, brushing the hair out of her eyes and sitting up properly to look at him. Thrills shot through his body—she meant it, she really meant it; he could tell that she meant it with all her heart! Her eyes were clear of struggle and full of something else now—she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. She put her arms around him, and he kissed her deeply and tenderly, pushing her back against the pillows again. Then he laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"We made love during a thunderstorm."

"So?"

"So, what was it you once told me? All the best romantic scenes happen in the rain," he said tenderly. Adelaide couldn't help chuckling along with him.

"You WOULD remember something like that."

* * *

When the two of them finally came out to rejoin the rest of society, everyone went about their business as though nothing had happened—except Pearl, who was smarter than she looked, and who winked at Adelaide. Frodo pulled out a chair for Adelaide at the table and sat close to her. Once, she looked up at him with such bright eyes that Merry nudged Pippin and pointed it out with a triumphant grin.

"He scored."


	12. Wizard Means Trouble

Chapter 12

"WIZARD" Means "Trouble"

**Alright, we're finally getting back to the original tale.**

* * *

The period of time between the end of that summer in Buckland and September of the year 3018 marked 7th Heaven for a very happy couple living at Bag End. Their relationship suited them both; they had lived together for so long anyway that they knew the ups and downs of each other and had the advantage of having much in common. Adelaide continued to keep house and Frodo continued to help her and work on his own studies, but now he made sure that she had time to spend with him, and she looked forward to those moments. In fact, their lives did not change insofar as their daily activities went, save for the fact that Frodo now liked to tease his OCD lass by pulling her away from her chores for a kiss or two, or rearranging everything just so she would have to go back and work on organizing things again. In the evenings, Frodo pulled her into his room, took her out walking, sat down to read with her, or made love to her directly after dinner on the floor of the sitting room. She was always willing and eager, no matter what time of day it was or where they were. She was happier than she had been in a long time, for now her life was a perfect balance of work and play and she felt that her womanly need to give love was fulfilled in her new sweetheart; Frodo similarly felt that now his life had some sort of purpose, although there remained in him the unfulfilled seed of courage and determination that had yet to sprout—the seed that Tolkien had planted in him for the purpose of the bigger story.

And speaking of Tolkien, Adelaide often wondered if the man might be turning in his grave at the thought of one of his characters in bed with a person from the Primary World, but she figured that if he had given them life, then they also had their personalities, free will, and other such characteristics of people in the Primary World, so perhaps he didn't mind. After all, the book had never been very specific as to ALL of the events in the Shire between Bilbo's farewell feast and Gandalf's return—seventeen years total. So Adelaide made a little apology to the master of literature and put her arm around Frodo anyway, promising Mr. Tolkien that she wouldn't spoil the basic storyline.

Frodo loved her to distraction. Unlike Adelard, who'd had to work hard at being Romeo, Frodo was a natural romantic who never missed an opportunity to present Adelaide with flowers, hugs and kisses, and small presents (some ordered from the Mountain and the Dale, mostly jewelry). He enjoyed reading to her and telling her stories while she cuddled beside him. He took her out as often as she liked, sometimes hiking with her as far as Long Cleeve, Buckland, Longbotton, and sometimes even Michel Delving. He sat down and studied with her, taking it upon himself to try and teach her a bit of Elvish. Under his guidance she learned how to read the various maps of Middle Earth that Bilbo had collected, and also learned the letters of the Quenya alphabet. He was very different each day; sometimes he might be sweet and cuddly, cooing into her ear and fondling her breast one minute, and then he would sweep her off her feet, drop her onto his bed, and make love to her without shedding any clothing at all. Sometimes she could tell if he was in a seductive, playful mood, and other times she just wasn't sure what he had up his sleeve. It was fun to try and guess what he had in mind, although sometimes she enjoyed the surprises.

But Frodo wasn't the only one with the ideas and energy. Adelaide was his equal when it came to being mischievous, although her ideas focused around teasing him to distraction. She knew precisely what clothes to wear to turn him on in different ways, and she became very much aware of her facial and body expressions; a slow, seductive smile was the key to the bedroom, while a more playful, happy smile made him chase her around. She danced with him, sang for him, and continued to tell her stories and make him laugh. She did not have to change for him so much as she did have to learn about the small things that especially pleased him.

One evening, Frodo was reading in his study when Adelaide came in and dropped to the floor beside his chair. Leaning her head against his leg, she fiddled with his trouser-seam and beamed when Frodo reached down to stroke her hair and continued to read his book. He wasn't particularly aroused, although having her at his feet was pleasant in its own rights. But when Adelaide's hand crept up his trouser leg to rub firmly against his skin, the Master of Bag End let his novel slip a bit in favor of trying to determine what sort of mischief his lass was up to. Her hand felt warm against his leg, causing his spine to tingle. He dropped the book completely to see her smiling up at him with a gleam in her eye. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raised herself into a kneeling position between his legs, her hands gently rubbing his thighs with firm, rapid strokes. She tilted her head up to him, and he leaned down to kiss her. The warmth of her hands lifted off his legs, and she removed her wrapper.

Frodo almost choked. There was hardly anything but a very thin, almost translucent nightgown beneath, and Adelaide had pulled it close off her shoulders, so that her ample bosom was pressed tight against the material, little drafts of air causing the nipples to perk and harden. Adelaide was breathing hard as she reached up behind her head and released a tumble of long, honey-colored hair. Frodo threaded his fingers through the massive cascade and pulled her head close to kiss her more fully. His tongue met and tangled with hers. He was not aware of what her hands were doing until she touched him and he realized that he was hard, very hard, and her fingers were exploring him up and down the length and breadth of him, but he didn't care, not while she had him in her hands and pleased him so much. "Don't stop," he whispered. He did not know what she had planned, but at the moment he did not care what it was, so long as she did not stop touching him.

"Close your eyes," she whispered. "And just tell me if I hurt you or do anything you don't like."

That very statement was debatable. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. A moment later, he gasped sharply with overwhelming pleasure as warm, moist, enveloping heat closed over the head of his member, and skin slid delightfully against skin as Adelaide shoved as much as she could take into her mouth. She had read about the technique from cheap romance novels and wanted to try the experiment. Apparently the authors had ONE thing right—fellatio obviously felt very good to men. Frodo's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he gripped the sides of the chair, whimpering with excitement. Oh Valar, where in the name of Eru had she learned THAT? Sensations new and almost completely foreign shot through his body, and he arched slightly. He thought he might go insane. The moisture, the heat, the friction…oh bliss! Oh, oh…Frodo gritted his teeth and reached out blindly to grab Adelaide. He did not want her to stop, no, not while she was pleasuring him with her mouth like that, but the concept was new for him, and he did not want to come in her mouth. A moment later, she was on the floor and he was on top of her, buried deep inside her, releasing every ounce of pent-up excitement and liquid heat into her body. She kissed him deeply, and he trembled. "I can't remember a more pleasurable experiment in my life. Where did you learn that?"

"The library."

* * *

Neither of them could hide their affection from the prying eyes of the people around them, and rumors flew thick and fast. The scandal was that the young lass in Bag End was more than bachelor Frodo Baggins' household maid. Adelaide didn't care. Neither did Frodo. Now that they were in a mutual agreement about their feelings for each other, they felt no need to keep anything hidden. Adelaide had never cared about what people said of herself and Adelard, and she didn't care what they said now of herself and Frodo. As for him, the only person whose approval he'd ever needed or wanted was Bilbo's, and he was sure that Bilbo would approve of his choice anyway, so what did it matter if people talked? The days, months, and years were filled with happiness, and the two of them forged a tight bond of trust and love.

For a while, things floated by on butterfly wings. Frodo never looked a day older than he had at 33, but he at least expected some kind of change in Adelaide and was interested to note that she never looked a day older than her proclaimed 23. She didn't feel different at all, although she was disappointed to note that, despite all the lovemaking she and Frodo were doing, she wasn't pregnant yet—although her menstrual cycle had stopped. For a while she thought she MIGHT be pregnant, but when nothing swelled up, she decided that perhaps the blood flow had stopped because of all the changes and stress that had happened and were still happening. Her body was trying to settle itself, she said calmly, although she was mystified when a year went by and not a single drop of blood passed between her legs. It puzzled her, and she began to hope that Gandalf might come back so he could tell her a thing or two about what was going on.

But Adelaide got her wish sooner than she expected.

It was September, just before Bilbo's customary birthday-party at Bag End. Frodo had chosen to forgo the traditional party and settle for a simpler celebration at the Green Dragon with his friends and relatives, which irritated Adelaide slightly because she was denied her annual privilege of planning a party. "Honey, I wanted to give you a break this year," Frodo explained. "Besides, it's my birthday, too, and I want to take you out for dinner. Be a nice lass and let me treat you to something special."

Adelaide twitched her nose. "Alright, but you have to promise me that we won't stay late. I have a birthday present for you, and it's…it's a private thing."

"Ah, that wouldn't happen to be the wine, would it?"

"FRODO! Well, that's part of it, but can you please pretend you don't know about ANY of it?"

"Alright, honey, I didn't see or hear a thing. Now please put on your shawl; there's a little bite in the air this evening."

"There is not, and you're just trying to mother-hen me. I'll bring it along if it makes you feel any better."

They picked up the Gamgees on their way out to the Green Dragon. Frodo was adamant that Sam and the Gaffer come to celebrate, since they were close friends. Frodo also felt that treating his friends to a drink and dinner was an ample way of thanking them for all their help and support. Sam and Frodo conversed about the new family that had moved into Hobbiton from Tuckburrow, and Adelaide looped her arm around the Gaffer's and chatted amiably about gardens, and, in particular, how to keep a garden neat and clean. Adelaide was extolling the virtues of the Japanese rock gardens and bonsai trees when they reached the Green Dragon around five o'clock. Merry and Pippin were already there, along with several of their friends. They cheered Frodo and wished him a happy birthday, and Frodo immediately went to the bar and ordered drinks for his party. A meal was served, and even those hobbits who had not been invited came over to talk and eat and have a drink. Before long, the entire tavern was singing and dancing and having a good old time, all because of a simple birthday party. Adelaide slipped up to the bar to talk with Rosie Cotton, while Frodo enjoyed his time with Merry and Pippin, who were up on a table, singing and laughing. Samwise Gamgee sat at a table with his father the Gaffer, Sandyman the miller, his son Ted, and Old Noakes; they gulped their ale happily and smoked in peace. Sam's eyes kept straying over to where Rosie was working hard and stealing peeks at him over Adelaide's shoulder.

"There's been some strange folk crossin' the Shire," said the Gaffer. "Dwarves…and others of a less savory nature. Some people talk of the Elves, y'know…they say they're leavin' Middle Earth. But the dwarves talk about growin' fears outside the Shire. War's brewin'! The mountains are fair-teemin' with goblins!"

"Far-off tales and children's stories, that's all those are," said Sandyman. "You're beginning to sound like Bilbo Baggins," said Sandyman. "Cracked he was."

"Eh! Mr. Bilbo Baggins always was cracked," said the Gaffer. "And mark my words, Frodo's cracking too."

"And proud of it," said Frodo, sliding into a chair and sliding out drinks. "Cheers, Gaffer!" He raised his mug, and then downed his ale.

"What's that, lad?" asked the Gaffer. "Oh, well, you know well enough that there's talk circulatin'. But Mr. Frodo Baggins is a gentlehobbit, as I've said before. Can't find a better one."

"Oh?" said Ted Sandyman. "That's as maybe. But it's none of our concern what goes on beyond our borders. Keep your nose out of trouble and no trouble will come to you!"

Frodo nodded and raised his mug in cheer.

"So, Mr. Frodo," chuckled the Gaffer. "A happy birthday to you. Fifty years old, and still looking young and dapper."

"Huh," spat Ted. "It's unnatural, and trouble will come of it," he muttered.

"Oh, come now," Sandyman teased his son. "We hobbits have always had a tendency for looking good at the age of fifty…and 111, for that matter," he winked. "But if I were you, Frodo, I wouldn't wait much longer to marry your lass. People talk, y'know, and besides, it gets difficult to produce the longer you wait."

Frodo smiled and looked over where Adelaide was sitting prettily and laughing with Rosie. "I've wanted to make her my wife for a long time. And how would you know I haven't been waiting for the right moment?" he teased. But inwardly he felt impatient. Adelaide had actually never brought up the subject of marriage except for the first time they had made love, and he was actually very scared of asking the question, since he was the only one in the Shire who knew Adelaide's full story. She was indeed a foreigner, and a very unusual one at that. Suppose she suddenly blipped out of Middle Earth as randomly as she had blipped into it? Suppose that Gandalf came back to offer her a way home and she decided to take it? Frodo was too frightened of a broken heart over a failed marriage, even though he was deep enough in love with Adelaide as it was with or without vows. Several times he had worked up the courage to ask her, trusting that her love was strong enough, and then he would look at her and get cold feet, knowing that she was different. Then he'd cuddle beside her in bed and cry into her hair because he did not want to lose her, he could not lose her, and he felt like a coward. He just wanted to enjoy his time with her…he did not want to even think about the concept of losing her. "And I don't even know who I would talk to in order to get permission to marry her. She's got a father, but he's long-distance."

"Well, then, try asking the little lady herself. She seems to have a head on her shoulders."

"And I'd do it fast, before someone like Adelard snatches her up again," warned Ted. He pointed, and Frodo turned. The sight made him gasp, and he nearly jumped out of his seat before the Gaffer placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave her be, lad. If she's loyal, she'll throw mud in his face. I know she wants to. If I were her, I would have done it a long time ago."

Adelaide had indeed been accosted by a hobbit, a one Adelard Took, to be precise. He had never stopped trying to get Adelaide back into his life, although it was clear as the morning dew that Adelaide and Frodo were a definitive couple. For a while he had stopped pestering Adelaide, finding other things to do with himself. But none of the lasses were a challenge as SHE had been. And the thought of her dating his hated rival made Adelard madder than hell. He approached her and sat down beside her. Adelaide pretended not to notice him.

"Hullo, Adelaide."

"Oh hey, Adelard, how's it going, how's the hole, what's new, why are you here, now fuck off, you little rat."

"Adelaide—"

"Stop right there. Don't even. We're done. End of story. Good-bye."

"Adelaide, I want you back."

"What for? So you can order me around, mess with me, and think that you're God's gift to women? So you can listen to me popping off insults and swearing as if they were gumdrops from a candy dispenser? You're the one who fucked up, not me."

"No, it isn't that...it isn't any of those things. Adelaide, I need you back, I want you back..."

She stared at him. "Well you can just watch the clock," she said evenly. "One of these fine, jolly days, hell will freeze over, and I'll come back when it happens."

Adelard gripped her arm as she turned away, and she whirled around, her head in close.

"Let me go, you little sonofawhore. Just because the years have gone by doesn't mean I've forgiven you one damn bit. You're not worth the shit out of a horse's ass. You think you can waltz in here and ask for me that way…get the fuck out of my face. You don't care. You never cared. All you wanted was a nice fuck, a nice tup. And you didn't get it. So Mr. I'm-So-Hot-Every-Girl-Wants-to-Screw-Me decided to get a feel-up with Pansy…or was it Marigold? I can never remember. Oh, that's right. You've done them both already. It was Daisy, wasn't it?"

"Don't you dare talk like that to me, you little…what do you even know about—"

"I'll tell you what I know, hobbit-boy; I know I found you at the back of the mill rutting like a pig on a lass as fat as the Old Took's donkey. Now that I think of it, the scene was hysterical. You didn't even bother pulling off all your clothes. Just a quickie, was that it, Adelard? You don't even know what a quickie is, and I'll bet you barely stayed up for more than ten seconds; you can't even get off without making a ridiculous noise like a lawn-mower. So who's baby was Daisy carrying a few months later? For that matter, how about Violet, Pansy, and Essie? And why not tell me the exact date you decided to play footsie with Posy? How long had all that been going on? Not too sure, but I know one thing. It's over, hobbit-boy."

"You can't tell me you haven't been messing around behind my back either. Everyone knows it, Adelaide. You think you're so fine—just about every hobbit know you—"

"And you're the town whoremaster. Everyone knows that, too. But I'm not the one who cheated, Adelard. If anything, I made a change for the better. I don't want you."

"Why, Adelaide?"

"Why? I'll tell you why. Because you were a cheap screwdriver, that's why. Because you thought you'd play Colonel Tottington with his prize water-buffalo. You wanted an easy ride and you got a bucking bronco. You made me wonder, when you first began treating me like a goddamned trophy—some kind of great catch for you to strut around with. Then you started accusing me of things that weren't true. You got all suspicious and mean when I tried to pull away. You threatened me and scolded me and fought with me and made me cry. I wasn't in love with you. I was in love with the idea of love. You had me infatuated, but not hooked. I wasn't willing to go the whole nine yards with you. And I won't. I told you to go fuck a cat. And I'm about to say it again."

"Adelaide don't you dare—"

"Huh! Don't I dare—what? What, Adelard? Don't I dare to spit in your face? Swear at you? I'll remind you that the last time we spoke, you slapped me and shoved me into the ground. What happened, did your dick suddenly turn to gold that I ought to come back and worship you?

"Don't be difficult, lass."

"Oh, go blow yourself! Who are you to tell me who and what to be? Take your hands off me, and don't you dare touch me again, or I will rip off your gilt scrotum and toss it in the Brandywine. It's over, Adelard. It's been over for a long time. Now get lost."

Adelard lowered his voice. "I am going to ask you once and for all," he hissed. "Will you come home with me tonight?"

"What the hell do I have to do, draw you a fucking picture? You're not welcome on my turf. I hate you. I'm dumping you. I did dump you. You're pathetic, stupid, and one hell of a cheating slimebag. I'm not going anywhere with you, tonight, tomorrow, or in the future. Now fuck off."

Adelard pulled away, sneering. "Seems to me you're taking it rather harsh, Adelaide. Seems like you're the one whose southern regions have turned to gold."

"You've never seen the southern regions to even know if they aren't already gold," Adelaide twitched her nose. "But if you were thinking of doing any kind of mining, I'd stick to the hobbit habit of plowing. Someone else beat you to the jackpot."

"Frodo!" Adelard spat. "That stuck-up aristocratic pretty-boy couldn't make a woman swoon even if…if somebody like that turns you on, as you say, then I'm just wasting my time. You're as stuck-up as he is."

"Which is why we get along so damn well," Adelaide smiled cheerfully. "The only thing you and I had in common was a temper, and even you know that I've got you beat at that. You may have slapped me, but I sent you home with a shiner that didn't go away for at least two weeks. And don't forget I can do it again. Now go home and screw your cat. Maybe you'll get a rise out of her."

Adelard backed slowly away, turned, and then stalked out of the Green Dragon. As Adelaide slipped the knife back into its place and turned, she saw Frodo approaching her, and she braced herself for whatever her sweetheart might say about drawing pocketknives in the tavern. To her surprise, Frodo boldly placed an arm around her waist and kissed her full upon the lips, to the hooting of Merry and Pippin. He broke and grinned at his lady-love.

"How about that birthday present?" he asked.

"You're ready to go?"

"I believe I am. I've got your promise running through my mind, and for some reason it involves wine, candles, and you standing beside the hot-water-filled tub wearing nothing but a smile."

"Oh, Frodo, you were supposed to pretend—"

"Ah, that's right. Never mind. I didn't say or think anything." He swatted her playfully on the ass. "You go get things prepared. Sam and I are walking home together."

"Oh, fine, then." Adelaide kissed him again and hurried out the door. It was dark outside, but there was just enough moonlight to show the way out of Bywater and back into Hobbiton. Adelaide knew the way by heart, even in the darkness. She took the key out from her pocket to unlock the door, and then, surprisingly, noted that the door was unlocked. Startled, she pushed the door open carefully, and stood to the side. Damn it, she had locked it; why was it open?

"Hello?"

No one answered. All that could be heard in the dreadful, dark silence was the rustle of papers in the night breeze. Adelaide felt her way about the hole, trying to find her way to her old room. If she had just moved three inches closer, she would have brushed against the silent figure huddled in a chair, watching her. Or, if the moon had been shining in that particular area, she would have noticed the peculiar sight of a familiar staff leaning against the wall, and a tall pointed hat in the lap of gray rags and robes.

* * *

Later that evening, Frodo said good-night to Rosie, along with Sam. After them came Merry, who went down on one knee to the lass and proclaimed a teasing affection for her. Sam turned red in anger.

"Boy, mind who you're sweet-talkin'," he muttered. Frodo put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Sam. Rosie knows an idiot when she sees one."

For a moment, Sam's face lit up. Then it fell. "Does she?" Frodo laughed as they went on.

"Don't worry, Sam, you're no idiot. Rosie doesn't like Merry."

"That's good," huffed Sam. "I don't want nobody messing with my Rosie Cotton!"

"Well, why don't you ask her to marry you?" asked Frodo. "If you're in love with her, you should ask her."

"Well, begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I'm only a simple gardener…not what like Miss Rosie might be interested in yet."

"Her type isn't mine," Frodo objected. "A simple gardener might do her good. And you know you only say that because you're shy, Sam!"

The stout hobbit blushed sharply, and then nodded. "A little. But I'm not fully ready to ask her yet. I have to make a home, first."

"Build a nest and feather it well, then; you have but to ask me for something, and it's yours," Frodo encouraged. Sam blushed again.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but why haven't you married Miss Adelaide yet?"

"The question of the night, it seems," Frodo murmured, and then laughed out loud. "I haven't got around to asking her, yet. But I will. I think I should. We've been together for almost seven years, and I think it's time I asked. I suppose she'd like a wedding, and people wouldn't carry on so. Besides, I've wanted to make her my wife for a long time…I suppose I just kept forgetting about the formalities. We live like a husband and wife as it is, and all that's missing are the vows and rings. But don't you worry, Sam, I'll have a beautiful wedding with her soon enough." His hopes leapt again as he spoke. Why not give the question another try? This time he would not get cold feet! Adelaide loved him enough to perhaps give up her world. They could have a hugely beautiful wedding, he was sure of it. A wedding! Frodo's heart gave a leap for joy. He had often thought of what it might be like to marry the lass he adored, but it was true—they lived so much already like husband and wife that the question often evaded his mind. But he was determined to set things right, now! He would go home this very minute. Adelaide would be waiting for him. He would fall at her feet and beg her to marry him, and if she said 'Yes,' then she would naturally plan everything out, and within a month they could properly celebrate a marriage of minds and hearts as well as bodies, and in the eyes of the world, they could be accepted as a proper married couple. Oh, how Adelaide would like that!

Frodo smiled. "Thank you for talking with me, Sam. I'm much clearer about the path I ought to take. Good-night, Sam, there's a good lad, and take care, good-night!"

Sam left him at Bag End, and Frodo walked up the stairs. He felt tired, but elevated. Oh, he would ask her in the midst of their lovemaking, perhaps…or maybe in the afterglow, when their hearts were settling back to normal. Oh, he could make her a wonderful husband, he was sure of it. And what a wife! Together they might travel, perhaps even go outside the Shire. Yes, that was a good thought! And there would be children…a son, an heir for Bag End! And daughters, little dark-haired creatures that giggled and ran around like little rays of sunlight. Adelaide had the body-frame of a mother; birthing would be easy for her. Frodo paused a moment on the top step, envisioning, for a moment, holding her hand during labor. Hm, she'd probably start swearing, the adorable thing. He smiled and pushed at the door. Why, it was wide open, not even closed! He moved hesitantly. Why had Adelaide not shut the door properly? She had the key, but the least she could have done was shut the door tight! It was so unlike Adelaide, even when she was tired. He walked in.

"Hello?" he asked, trying not to be so loud as to disturb Adelaide. He looked about. There was no one. Then, suddenly, a hand flashed in the moonlight, grabbed the hobbit, and swung him around. Frodo found himself looking, terrified, up into the shaggy, disheveled face of Gandalf!

"Is it secret? Is it safe?" the wizard hissed.

* * *

In a few moments, Frodo had lighted some lamps, and was busily rummaging around through an old trunk for the envelope that had been sealed and given to him seventeen years ago. All this while, Gandalf kept his staff close at hand, and jumping nervously at every sound that came from outside. The room was warmed only with his presence. Other than that, it was a very lonely night; the stars were out only dimly, and the moon could not be seen any more. There was a slight rustling of the bushes, but that was nothing; the wind had picked up.

"Ah!" said Frodo, taking out the envelope. "Here it is," he said, holding it up, but Gandalf snatched it from his hands and dropped it into the roaring fire of the fireplace. "What are you doing?" Frodo cried. Was the wizard mad? He was trying to melt that gold, that beautiful gold…Frodo suddenly found himself thinking about the Ring's beauty, and he nearly slapped himself. That was silly; you didn't think about a Ring's beauty! Then he looked into the fire. Like a peeling leaf, the paper had crinkled back, brown and hot, smoking in the fireplace with an eerie sense of doom. There lay the Ring in its glowing embers, sparks only bouncing off the golden sheen. Gandalf reached in the tongs and picked up the Ring from the fiery heart of the flame.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo," said the wizard. Frodo couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's quite cool," said the wizard, and dropped it into the hobbit's unwilling hand. The Ring suddenly felt a little heavier than it should; and besides that, it was not at all hot. It wasn't even warm!

"Tell me, Frodo," said the wizard, turning away. "What can you see? Are there any markings?"

Frodo turned the Ring over in his fingers, examining it closely. "No, there's nothing," he said. Gandalf started to sigh in relief when suddenly Frodo said, "Wait…wait…there's something here. There are markings. It's some form of Elvish. I can't read it."

"There are few who can," said Gandalf. "The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

"Mordor!" gasped Frodo. He had heard of the place before; it was supposed to be a frightening place of many horrible things, but only few hobbits knew about it, and few really knew about it's history. For many hobbits, Mordor was a place to frighten the young ("Now, if you don't eat your greens, I'm going to send you to Mordor!"). But Frodo knew about it, dimly, and the very word frightened him anyway.

"In the Common tongue, it means 'One Ring to Rule them All. One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.'"

Frodo quailed. "What do those words mean?" he asked.

"I shall tell you in a moment. Tell me, Frodo, could you please get Adelaide up? I fear that she is snoozing away, and she didn't even see me; she walked right past me. This is a matter that concerns her, too."

"She…you saw…where?"

"In your room, I think," Gandalf calmly lighted his pipe and gave no indication that he was the least bit scandalized. Frodo turned red and ran to his bedroom. She was asleep, the poor darling, lying without a stitch of clothing on, and smelling oh-so-wonderful…but Frodo gently shook her.

"Adelaide!"

She shifted in the bed, and then her eyes dimly fluttered open.

"Wh-ah….?"

"Adelaide, please, there's no time to explain, get up!"

"Frodo…this is a hell of a time to want to make love. You kept me waiting, and I'm tired. Fuck off, will you?"

"Adelaide!" hissed Frodo. "Can't you see I'm in a hurry? Get up! Please, it's urgent!"

"What's so urgent?" groaned Adelaide. "Whatever the fuck it is, it can damn well wait. Tell me about it tomorrow."

"No, now!" cried Frodo. "Adelaide, get up!"

"Frodo, don't be…an idiot. Come to bed, for heaven's sakes, and stop acting stupid. You kept me waiting long enough; you can at least wait now until tomorrow. Now good-night." Then she turned over and snuggled down under the covers. Frodo was desperate.

"Gandalf, she's not waking up!"

"I'll fix that," the wizard said, and gently placed two of his fingers to the nape of her neck. He squeezed gently. To Frodo's surprise, Adelaide gave a screech that shook the roof. She clutched the blankets to her and gasped.

"Holy shit! Gandalf! You old fuck! What the hell are you assaulting young women for? I'm trying to sleep! If I had a lawyer, I'd sue you until you were blue in the face!"

"He'd be on my side," the wizard replied dryly. "I'd terribly sorry, Adelaide, but Frodo's right: there is business that concerns you, and I want you to hear it."

"Hell, no! I'm not listening to you anymore, bran-brains. You thought you could just walk out on me and make me wait forever to go home. So if you have any grievances, don't bullshit about 'em to me!"

"Well, if you want to know," the wizard said calmly. "What I have to say deals primarily with your home and your present situation—bar the immediate situation here. So put some clothes on, and I'll fix you some tea—oh yes, and I've brought you a sweet-roll from Minas Tirith. Come into the kitchen and eat it. I can't chat with you when you have nothing but a grumpy face on."

"Oh, get out of here, you bugger!"

"She hasn't changed much!" Gandalf sat down at the table with Frodo. A minute later, Adelaide came out, wearing her normal modern attire: shorts and the Boston Red Sox T-shirt. She slumped into a seat beside Frodo and flopped her head down on the table.

"Ooooh, God, it's too damn early in the morning. Gandalf, PLEASE, can't this wait?"

"No," Gandalf said sternly. He handed her a package as Frodo stroked her hair in sympathy. "Eat your sweet-roll. I got it especially with you in mind." Adelaide bit into the flavored pastry and grumpily sipped her tea. Gandalf lit his pipe and looked across at Frodo. The Ring lay on the table beside them.

"This is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mt. Doom, taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself!"

"And Bilbo found it…in Gollum's cave," Frodo made the instant connection. For years he had known of the Ring and how Bilbo had found it—Bilbo loved to tell the tale of the Riddles in the Dark, over and over again. It also happened to be Adelaide's favorite part in _The Hobbit_, and she raised her head sleepily to try and pay attention.

"Yes, for sixty years the Ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping, prolonging his life and delaying old age," Gandalf said. Adelaide put her head back down. "But no longer, Frodo. Evil is stirring in Mordor. The Ring has awoken. It's heard it's Master's call."

"But he was destroyed!" Frodo protested. "Sauron was destroyed!"

Even Adelaide jerked her head up when a soft, deadly voice sliced through the little hobbit hole. Frodo and Gandalf looked over at the Ring. The voice was like the delicate, seductive thread of silk passing through the eye of a sharp, silver needle. Adelaide's mouth dropped.

"Good Lord, it TALKS."

"The spirit of Sauron endured," Gandalf told them. "His life-force is bound to the Ring, and the Ring survived. Sauron has returned. His orcs have multiplied. His fortress of Barad-Dur is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this Ring to cover all the lands in certain darkness. He is seeking it…oh, he is seeking it; all this thought it bent on it! The Ring above all yearns to return to the hand of its Master. They are one—the Ring and the Dark Lord!" Gandalf looked over at Adelaide, who had propped her chin in her hands. "Adelaide, wake up!"

"'m 'wake," she mumbled.

"My dear, this is a matter of grave importance. It concerns you dreadfully. Tell me what you know of this."

"Why would she know of it?" Frodo asked. "She's never even seen the Ring until now."

"Adelaide, haven't you told him?"

"Told me what?" Frodo demanded.

"Gandalf, IT'S GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT; IT IS TOO EARLY IN THE MORNING," Adelaide growled.

"Oh, very well, have it your own way." Gandalf sighed. "Please don't zone out yet. I must know—Adelaide how acutely are you aware of the consequences of unity between Sauron and the Ring?"

"It's not that hard. If Sauron gets the Ring he causes the ultimate destructive shit against Middle Earth, thereby enslaving every free people present and accounted for, and under his jurisdiction nobody gets a license to drive or eat popsicles on a hot day in July; am I missing anything?"

"Yes. You missed the part where you ultimately stay in Middle Earth forever."

"I did? Oh, I—HOLY SHIT, WHAT? GANDALF, YOU NEVER TOLD ME DIDDLY-FUCKING-SQUAT ABOUT THAT!" Adelaide's eyes popped wide open.

"Well, I am telling you now. I have learned a great deal about not only the Ring, but of you, and how you came to be here. I have no time to discuss details; all will be revealed in time. But this is no dream for you."

"I already figured THAT out."

"You may have already experienced physical pain. You could also die. Your presence here has already become well-known, and there are those out there—good and bad—who might want a personal interview. That's the bad news. The good news is that you're quite immortal."

"Well, my soul is, at least."

"Here, your body is also. For every year here is merely a minute in your own world, so you are not experiencing aging of any sort. That is why you see her just as fresh as she was seventeen years ago," said Gandalf to Frodo. "And that that is why she only thinks a year is nothing."

"Could that also explain why I'm not having any menstruation?"

Gandalf ignored her. "Adelaide, it is possible that with the closing powers of darkness, your time will be cut off from ours, and you will have to stay here forever. I'm afraid it will have to be so. Your fate is tied in with the Ring," he said. "It is necessary, therefore, to keep you as safe as we possibly can. I have a good mind to send you to Rivendell, where you shall certainly be kept safe. It is an idea," he mused. "And yet I will not let you leave Frodo's side. You are as good for him as he is for you, I think," he added, with a twinkle in his eye. "But you must realize something, Adelaide: there are evil ones looking for you as well as the Ring."

"Why?"

"You know much of Middle Earth. You have information that is vital."

"I don't get it. It's too early in the morning."

"I have no time to discuss it now. We must act quickly on the matter of the Ring. It must never be found!"

"All right, we'll put it away!" said Frodo, snatching up the Ring, and carrying it out into the living room. Adelaide followed, and Gandalf came behind. "We'll keep it here. No one has to know it's here. They don't know, do they?" he asked, turning slowly. Gandalf did not answer; he only looked at the hobbit with a sad pity.

"Do they, Gandalf?"

"There was one other who knew about the Ring," said Gandalf. "I searched everywhere for the creature Gollum. But the Enemy found him first. I don't know how long it was that they tortured him. But they were able to find out two important facts. Shire and Baggins."

"Shire…Baggins! But that would lead them here!"

Frodo suddenly held out the Ring. "Take it, Gandalf!"

"No, Frodo!"

"You must take it!"

"I dare not!"

"I'm giving it to you!"

"Don't tempt me, Frodo!" cried the old wizard. Adelaide had never heard Gandalf talk like that before! Frodo's face crumpled, as he looked at the old wizard, bent and sad, trying so hard to resist the lure of It.

"You do not understand," the wizard said gently. "I would want to use this Ring from a desire to do good. And it can only do evil."

"But it cannot stay in the Shire!" cried Frodo.

"No!" said Gandalf. "No, it can't!"

Frodo stared at Gandalf. In one night it seemed his world had blown up around him without any rhyme or reason. All his years he had been sheltered, feeling only the warmth of a hobbit hole and a comforting life, along with a beautiful lass and a chance for marriage and a family. But now, this Ring! This Ring stood between him and his vision of peace. The Shire had to be protected. The inhabitants were good. Sometimes stupid, but good. And there was Adelaide! He couldn't let anything happen to her. He remembered the time he had comforted her during a storm. She didn't like being startled by loud noises. He glanced over at her. She didn't look like she was in need of a knight-in-shining-armor at the moment, but she wouldn't deny him his right and his offer to protect her and be there for her. But beyond her, beyond the Shire, there lay other lands of free people: husbands, wives, children, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, and friends…those lands, too, would be in jeopardy. Middle Earth was in danger. There was work to be done. The Ring had to leave the Shire! Frodo clenched his fist around the Ring, and the tiny seed of courage and determination that Tolkien had planted within him began to sprout. Huh, and Adelaide called him a lazy gardener!

"What must I do?"

* * *

In a jiffy, Adelaide and Gandalf were helping him pack his things: clothing, sleeping gear, food, etc. Adelaide grabbed her dusty backpack and brushed it off. In a moment, she too, was transformed. She was going on another adventure, this time with Frodo, and what an adventure it might turn out to be! Frodo pulled on his jacket, and then helped Adelaide with hers. It was slightly big, but Gandalf changed all that when he instructed Frodo to turn his head, and changed Adelaide back to normal height. She bumped her head against the ceiling, swore, and then Frodo turned.

"Oh, Adelaide!" the hobbit's cry was desperate, even disappointed.

"Well, lad, you can't think that she'll go on an adventure without first getting her normal qualities back, can you?" asked Gandalf.

"That isn't what I meant."

"I have to throw up," Adelaide announced, rushing to the bathroom swiftly. Gandalf sighed again.

"I did forget about the after-effects."

They were all settled. Frodo was to get to Bree, where he would meet Gandalf at the Inn of the Prancing Pony ("The Prancing Pony? Why the hell did Tolkien come up with a name like that?"). Gandalf himself needed to go see the head of his order, who was both wise and powerful. Frodo slipped the Ring into his pocket and slipped his hand into Adelaide's. "I can go cross-country easily enough."

Gandalf smiled. "My dear Frodo," he said. "Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about them, and then after a hundred years they can still surprise you."

At that moment, there was a thrashing sound at the window. The bushes were rustling, enough to prove that it was not the wind which shook them. Gandalf raised his staff. "Get down!" he hissed to Adelaide and Frodo. They both lay on the floor, hardly daring to breathe. Gandalf slowly approached the window, his staff outstretched, a look of suspicion on his face. And then, he struck. There was an oof. It didn't sound like an Enemy "oof" though. It sounded like…

Gandalf heaved a puffing and huffing stout Samwise Gamgee through the window and onto the desk. "Darn you old Samwise Gamgee, have you been eavesdropping?" he roared. Sam, pale and trembling, was too frightened to speak, but he finally managed to stutter.

"I haven't been dropping no eaves sir! I was just trimming the bush out there, if you follow me!"

"A little late to be trimming the verge, don't you think?" asked Gandalf, a little annoyed. "What did you hear? Speak!" he shook poor Sam, who blubbered.

"N-n-n-nothin' important! Leastwise I did hear something about a Ring and a Dark Lord and something about the end of the world…but don't hurt me, Mr. Gandalf sir! Don't turn me into anything…unnatural!"

"No?" said Gandalf, looking at Frodo, who was obviously amused. Gandalf would never hurt a hair on any hobbit's head, leastways Sam's. "Perhaps not. I've thought of a better use for you!"

Sam, though his face showed humble gratitude, was nevertheless a little nervous as to what a "better use" might be.


	13. Whaddya Mean, Sleep Outdoors!

Chapter 13

A-Camping We Will Go

* * *

"Come on, Samwise, keep up," growled Gandalf, striding swiftly along, with his horse. Samwise Gamgee huffed and puffed behind him, jogging along as best he could, for he was laden with pots, pans, and other camping equipment. The morning had broken into a sweet and crisp dawn; the sun was peeking up behind the mountains, and the sky was still hazy with the aroma of dew and chilly wind. Purple and blue painted the still-life clouds, hanging in horizontal puffy lines across the dome of heaven, and the stars above were just beginning to fade away. Somewhere, over the hillsides, an adventure was waiting for them all, and they were taking the steps toward it with unknowing innocence. It was still too early in the morning. Frodo and Sam were wide awake, but Adelaide was grumpy as a bear, and very put out that her birthday gift for her lover should have been pushed aside in favor of going to Bree. Where the hell was Bree, anyway? And who in their right minds named a town "Bree" anyway? Sounded like the name of a horse, or something.

At last, they came to a long grove of trees, standing upright like soldiers awaiting orders. The long rows on either side made them feel like woodland kings, to be going down the isle. By this time weariness had settled in over the hobbits. Sam could hardly keep his eyes open, and Frodo took all of his strength just to try and listen to Gandalf's advice. Adelaide was just dead tired, and announced the news several times. Gandalf looked serious. He gave last-minute instructions to Frodo, and then turned to Adelaide.

"You're the big person in the party, so if anything happens, I'm holding you responsible," he told her. "And you are not allowed to get yourself captured or hurt. I don't care if they're on the verge of death; you are to take care of yourself as best you can. If you fell into the wrong hands—"

"I'd get a wrong feel-up. I get it, Gandalf. Don't worry about me. And don't fuss over the hobbits so much. I'll keep 'em sober…and snug as a bug in a rug." Frodo had a vague image of Adelard's face after Adelaide had punched him. Woe betide the enemy, he thought grimly, who tried to mess with Adelaide or her hobbits. Gandalf took Adelaide's hand and kissed it.

"Hm, I told you that you and he had parallel minds."

Adelaide twitched her nose, blinking owlishly. "I was wondering when you were going to say 'I told you so.'"

"I truly am happy for the two of you. Beren and Luthien, you know, went on a quest, too, and their love story has been a shining inspiration for centuries. With any luck, your tale might land right beside theirs. Is it safe?" this question directed suddenly at Frodo. The hobbit put his hand over his jacket pocket. It was there, safe. He could feel the shape of it in there, ominous, and quickly dropped his hand.

"I must impress upon you again not to use it for any reason," said Gandalf. "The Enemy's spies are everywhere. Travel only by day, and stay off the roads. Never put it on, for then the Enemy will be drawn to its power. Remember, the Ring has a will of its own…it wants to be found." He mounted his horse. "Take care, Frodo," he said. "I will be awaiting you in Bree."

He galloped away, with those words, and soon the hobbits and Adelaide found themselves quite alone. It was a frightening feeling. A bird squawked, and Frodo jumped. Then he turned to Sam, who came up behind him, feeling a little embarrassed, and yet a kind of we-got-ourselves-into-this-mess feeling. Frodo sighed, and then looked up at Adelaide. She looked down at him. "Good God, this is weird. I feel all catawampus. I've been short for seventeen years, and all of a sudden, I'm a giant again." Frodo reached up and took her hand.

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm just fucking tired. Can we find a place to sleep before we go tramping all over creation?"

* * *

They hiked a little that afternoon, going as far as they could across the meadows and fields and through the woods, staying off the East Road and heading for the Green-Hill Country. Adelaide saw much of the landscape that she had passed many years ago in her first attempt to run away from Bag End, and she teasingly informed Frodo that now they WERE running away. She wondered if the man would be in the forest again—the man named Strider. She had told Frodo about him a long time ago and how he had rescued her, and he had forgotten all about him, but Adelaide could never forget the medieval Indiana Jones who had tackled her, fed her dinner, and then carried her pig-a-back out of the forest, playing horsey all the while. She smiled briefly. Suppose they ran into him again! What fun that would be! He'd see she was much taller now, and he couldn't possibly think of carrying her pig-a-back anymore. But Frodo might like to meet him. Those two had interesting minds, that was certain. Adelaide understood Frodo as a thoughtful intellectual who had a thirst for knowledge and an equal love of beauty, humor, and sunny personalities. It was why he loved her, why he was drawn to people like Merry and Pippin, why he doted on the Elvish language and often told Adelaide how much he wanted to see her attired in a real Elvish gown. But Strider, though he seemed a thoughtful intellectual as well, was not so much seeking after truth or knowledge as he was pondering it already. He was obviously a gentleman beneath all the sweat and grease and dirt, for he was respectful of her—and he loved to play horsey. Yes, he and Frodo would probably enjoy a good talk or two!

The day turned out to be gorgeous indeed. Travel through the Shire in September was always a blessing, and it put Adelaide in mind of the time when she had first arrived in time to see the Shire at the height of its bloom. It was some time before they stopped for lunch, but Adelaide found, to her astonishment (and to everyone else's) that she wasn't hungry. The very thought of food made her sick.

"Adelaide, please, have something to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You'll starve, Miss Adelaide, you really will."

"I can't do it."

"Honey, just a little?"

"Frodo, do you know what happened to my stomach when Gandalf gave me back my real height? I threw up that sweet roll he gave me and everything else I ate yesterday. I am not hungry at all right now. I'm going to give it a couple days to settle."

They hiked well into the evening and stopped to make camp in a small glade in the forest's center. Dusk was falling, and the Shire looked quite beautiful in the sunlit glow. After eating dinner, Frodo crawled up into a tree to smoke, while Sam tended the fire. Adelaide sat on the ground and flipped open a book. After a while, Frodo leaned down and smiled at his sweetheart.

"What's that you're reading, love?"

"Oh…uh…_Tree and Leaf_, by J.R.R. Tolkien."

"Tolkien!" Frodo smiled. "Oh, that's how you pronounce the name. I started reading that book; I hope you don't mind. It had a lovely story in there about a farmer who goes out to slay a dragon. But I never finished the entire book. I loved the story, though. The author tells a very good tale, and I loved how his dragon seemed very much like Smaug—the way Bilbo described him to me."

"Keep talking," Adelaide said breathlessly.

"Oh, well, I was finished. I became rather fond of the dragon. What's _Tree and Leaf_ about?"

"It's Tolkien's essay on fairyland," Adelaide stepped gingerly on the ice. "I'm reading it for my thesis. Tolkien wrote…most of his stories for his children."

"Oh! You and that thesis. After seventeen years, it isn't finished?"

"So I'm a slacker."

"Would you like to come up here and read?" Frodo patted a spot beside him. "I'm fond of company, and you know I don't bite."

She gave him an affectionate look. "Thanks, but I'll get distracted. Besides, we've got a third wheel." She nodded with her head, indicating Sam. Frodo sighed.

"Adelaide, he's completely oblivious."

"Don't underestimate gardeners. He's along 'cause he's got big ears, remember?"

"But honey—"

"For Pete's sake, Frodo, I want some privacy when I make out; thanks."

* * *

Sometime after their exchange, and the forest had grown darker, Adelaide began hearing noises in her head. They started very low, like a Benedictine Chant, and began rising steadily in tone and volume. It was as if somebody was calling in her mind, calling to her in a foreign language that she did not understand. She sat up straight. Frodo had heard it too, and had looked up from his book. Yes, there was distinctive chanting, coming from not far off. This kind of music was sad, but magical, ethereal. Adelaide sat up straighter. The alluring sounds beckoned to her in a strange way that made her want to join in the song, though she didn't know the words. They were being sung in Elvish.

Elvish!

"Sam!" said Frodo, looking at his friend with excitement. "Wood-Elves!"

_Oh no_, thought Adelaide. _I don't like Elves_.

"Come on!" said Frodo, leaping from the tree, and grabbing Sam's hand. Adelaide followed reluctantly. She crawled on her hands and knees with the hobbits to a little ledge, through the vine growth, and there, in the midst of the night, through the trees, she saw them.

Elves, yes, but what Elves! They weren't like the Lothlorien Elves at all. Tall, regal, and dignified, they floated through the night with a queer light that shone around their bodies, like otherworldly spirits, or angels. Yes, that's what they looked like, angels, only they had no wings, and there was something still very earthy about them. Saintly, perhaps? They were the most beautiful creatures Adelaide had yet set eyes on, and yet their chanting was both sad and sweet, a farewell to Middle Earth and a hope for a new life beyond the sea. Their procession did not stop; horses, banners, and Elves moved like a silver stream through the dark trees, their music rising in different tones of low and high notes, here like the throb of a drum, and there like the wail of some exotic, tropical bird. Adelaide felt something within her stir, and she felt her heart pounding. So these were Elves, real wood Elves! A tinge of regret stole through her as she realized that she had not gone to see them earlier. They didn't look hostile at all. She supposed that not all Elves were alike, and she relaxed. Perhaps Wood Elves were not as territorial as the people of Lothlorien.

"Where are they going?" asked Sam.

"To the Gray Havens, Sam," said Frodo softly, almost sadly.

"They're leaving Middle Earth!" said Sam.

"Never to return."

"What're the gray havens?" asked Adelaide softly. She'd heard of them, once before, but she couldn't remember where.

"Beyond the White Towers of the Western Shores are the Gray Havens, where the Gray ships sail to Valinor," Frodo explained. "Did you not know that, Adelaide?"

"I...I don't know, or recall," she responded softly. One of the Elves turned to look straight at her, and Adelaide felt the voice inside her head again, only this time she could understand the foreign tongue.

_This shall one day be your path, O Bride._

_Bride? I'm not married._

_He waits for you. And when you accept and embrace him, you shall be a Bride._

_I am totally confused on that point. What do you mean?_

_It is for you to discover that, O Bride._

Adelaide was very quiet when they returned to camp. She stretched out on the ground beside Frodo and held him close, feeling him curl into her embrace. His fingers inched beneath her shirt and sports bra to caress her breast, and Adelaide felt a thrill shoot through her body. Oh, it wasn't fair to have a third wheel, but no…SHE was the third wheel in this story; she was the tagalong. She sighed moodily, but remember her promise: she would NOT fuck up the plot. None of that was allowed—at least, that's what she was going to TRY not to do.

Sam couldn't sleep.

"Everywhere I lie, it seems that there's a big dirty root digging into my back," he grumbled. Frodo smiled in his sleep.

"Just pretend you're back home," he mumbled drowsily. "With a soft warm mattress and a lovely feather pillow."

Sam did his best to imagine, but he wasn't very good, and soon sat up. "It's no use, Mr. Frodo, I'll never catch on to outdoor sleeping," he sighed. Frodo merely smiled. It was easy for him to pretend, particularly since he was curled into Adelaide; she was a large, warm bundle of joy, and he cuddled closer to whisper to her.

"I love you, honey."

"Mmmph." Adelaide smiled drowsily and kissed his curly head. Frodo pulled his cloak over her the best he could and continued to pet her. It occurred to him that Sam had mentioned a key fact earlier. Marriage. Oh, he had forgotten to ask her! Frodo mentally smacked his head and then lifted himself up again to kiss Adelaide's cheek. He wouldn't bother her now when she was sleeping. He merely stroked her face until he fell asleep.

In the morning, they hiked on. Through the meadows and cornfields, over brooks and waterfalls, over hill and dale, and on. _Over the river and through the woods to the town of Bree we go_, thought Adelaide. They were now crossing through the same forest by the town of Woodhall, and Adelaide kept looking around for Strider, but he was nowhere to be seen. They broke through the forest that afternoon and started crossing through a field of grain. Sam kept on looking very worried. Adelaide tried talking with him once or twice, but he was very shy, and said little, unless it was to Frodo.

At last, Sam stopped.

"This is it," he said. Frodo turned.

"This is what?"

Sam looked like a cat in front of a swimming pool. "If I take one more step," he declared. "It'll be the furthest I've ever been from home."

Frodo came back to Sam, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Sam," he said. Sam looked down at his feet, and then took a step. He started walking. And Frodo smiled at him. "Remember what Bilbo used to say?" he said. "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You take your eyes off your feet, and there's no telling where you may be swept off to."

"Sort of like you, Miss Adelaide!" Sam ventured. "You're very far from home, aren't you?"

"Um, yes."

"Is…is it frightening for you?"

Adelaide thought hard for a minute. "Ehh…no, not really. I think by this time I'm so used to traveling, being somewhere new doesn't scare me anymore."

Sam did not know that Adelaide had a history of traveling. He was astonished when Frodo laughed and teased her: "This from the girl who flooded the hole into next week when Gandalf left her!"

Adelaide stuck her tongue out at Frodo. "Yah, what would you know, hobbit-boy?"

"At least I didn't turn on the faucet when _I _had to leave."

"Yeah, but you've never been thrust into a whole different world with people you don't know diddly-squat about, with new cultures, time zones, etc., etc. And when your one chance at getting home leaves you in the dust, you'd definitely flood the rafters."

"True," Frodo admitted. "But you don't seem very interested in going home now!" He said it cautiously, to see what her reaction might be. Adelaide grinned brightly.

"Yeah, and you don't seem interested in letting me go, either. The story is just beginning. I'm enthralled. If I get zapped back home now, I'll throw a fit."

"And she'll throw one!" Frodo burst out laughing. "I hope, for your neighbors' sakes, that you don't get zapped back. We'll try and hold you here."

"Good luck. My own world couldn't tie me down."

"Didn't you say you lived in Rohan at one point?" Sam asked.

"Ahh…yeah, I did."

Frodo scanned the horizon. "Where did Gandalf pick you up? It must have been somewhere along these roads. They're the only ones for miles."

"I have no entire clue what is where and where is what around here. I haven't traveled out of the Shire for a while, and I have no idea which way Rohan lies from here."

"You should have studied the maps more," Frodo scolded her. "Honestly, Adelaide, I thought you memorized them, the way you poured over them again and again!"

"To be frank, I hate geography," Adelaide said flatly. "Never got any A's in that class in school. I have to have hands-on experience, and from there I know what I'm doing and where I'm going. Which is why studying maps doesn't do a bit of shit for me. I'm…like…Lord of the Navigationally-Challenged."

"Your loss," Frodo scolded. "Let's take a while and eat."

"We just ate!" Adelaide cried. "It can't be time for another meal already!"

"Well, it is," Frodo checked her. "Let's pull to the side and have a small bite."

"This is hiking," Adelaide protested. "You can't just pull over any time you wa—oh, what the hell anyway."

* * *

Meanwhile, Gandalf was riding fast and riding hard to reach Isenguard, the home base of the wizards. The actual building in which the wizards often convened was a tall black tower called Orthanc. Isenguard lay at the very end of the Misty Mountains, overlooked by Methedras and faced by the Fords of Isen and the Gap of Rohan. Orthanc was situated in the embrace of the surrounding mountains and hillsides, in a beautiful horseshoe-shaped valley known as Nan Curunir, the Wizard's Vale. Orthanc was protected by a high wall of stone in a circle around the tower; inside the grounds were the lush gardens and soft green grass that grew around the tower and made it seem very beautiful and grand indeed. But Gandalf did not heed the beauty so much as he did the smoke rising up in the distance from Mordor. Clouds gathered in the East like a plague. Gandalf urged his horse onward, stopping at last before the great black tower of Orthanc, home now to Sauruman the White, Gandalf's elder and superior.

Sauruman was head of the Istari, that is, he was head of the council of wizards. He was reckoned wise by everyone, Elves, men, dwarves, and perhaps even the wicked, for he studied their arts heavily. Even recently, he had been studying of the Rings of Power, and a certain One Ring had interested him greatly. He descended the steps with the straight and noble bearing of an old man with great knowledge and power, his white robes flowing behind him. His face was long and proud, with lofty eyes and a dignified, hawk-like nose. He had, in recent years, become more interested in the politics and histories and strategies of the Enemy, choosing to study his movements not for the purpose of attacking him, but rather to see how much greater he, Sauruman the White, might become if he but employed those same methods and techniques of the Dark Lord. He did not associate with hobbits or Elves now, and rarely spoke to any decent man. The trade of the wicked was luring him, though he did not bother to reveal his secrets now to Gandalf. He was choosing to wait until… well, you'll find out soon enough.

"Smoke rises from the mountain of Doom, the hour grows late, and Gandalf the Gray rides to Isenguard, seeking my council," said Sauruman softly. He smiled at his companion. "For that is why you have come, is it not, my friend?"

"Sauruman." Gandalf bowed his head with respect. His elder was wise and powerful; he would know how to handle all that was going on.

They walked together around the gardens of Isenguard. Here, things were blooming, and everything was green and fresh. The two wizards often conversed in this manner, and so while the breeze blew and the flowers bloomed, they spoke together. Gandalf was quick to tell him about the Ring. Sauruman was very surprised, and also greedy for more news, and could hardly contain his eagerness, but with great willpower, he suppressed it.

"You are sure of this?"

"Beyond any doubt."

"So the Ring has been found."

"All these long years it was in the Shire, right under my very nose!" Gandalf chuckled.

"Yet you did not have the wit to see it," Sauruman's words were harsh, condemning. "Your love of the halfling's leaf has clearly slowed your mind."

Gandalf scratched his head, a bit insulted, but Sauruman went on. "And what of this new young lady?" he asked. "I have been informed that she is from a land across the sea, a land of snowy mountains and a never-setting sun and wild animals. But you have seen her for yourself, or so you say. Who is she, and what do you know of her? You have told me only that she is the bearer of vital information that concerns the fate of all Middle Earth. What does she know?"

"I cannot tell you that, because she will not tell me," said Gandalf. "And I did not encourage her to. She carries very dangerous information."

"Why did you not bring her here? We might have questioned her, and made use of her."

Gandalf thought briefly of how he had seen Adelaide with her head on the table back in Bag End, and how Frodo had reached over to tenderly stroke her hair; again he congratulated himself on his decision. "I do not think she would tell us much," Gandalf said carefully. "There is no sense in her telling anyone anything. Her information could be the ruin of us all! If we could win or lose…what the fate of Middle Earth is…if Sauron were to get his claws on that information, be it good or bad, he could bend everything to his purpose, and all would inevitably be lost. The doom of Middle Earth would be sealed. She is part of a story; the story is not a part of her! She has no business trying to alter what must come about."

"And yet there is more we could learn from her, if not her information. This…this Primary World. It interests me."

"I have no doubt that she would make an interesting study," Gandalf agreed. "She has already laden my ears with a good deal of her 'slang,' as she calls it, and she has vowed to get me off smoking and onto chocolate, whatever that is. If you saw her, you would be pleased. She's very intelligent. But we cannot risk it. She has information that could either bring about our downfall or our victory. She can play to either side, and thankfully, she's on ours. We must not think of her for the moment. She will come, in time, to learn of her predicament. We still have time, time enough to counter Sauron, if we act quickly."

"Time?" the other wizard stopped him short. "What time do you think we have? Sauron has gained much of his former strength. He cannot take physical form, but his spirit has lost none of its potency. Concealed within his fortress, the Lord of Mordor sees all. His gaze pierces cloud, shadow, earth and flesh." He smiled cunningly at Gandalf. "You know of what I speak, Gandalf. A great Eye, lidless and wreathed in flame."

"The Eye of Sauron," said Gandalf, softly with sadness in his eyes. This was not good, and if Adelaide had been there, she would have immediately smelled a rat. But that is not to say that Gandalf didn't smell the same thing. He's smart too, you know!

"He is gathering all evil to him," said Sauruman. "Very soon he will have an army great enough to launch an assault upon Middle Earth."

"You know this?" Gandalf was skeptical (and he smelled a rat). "How?"

Sauruman turned, smiling cunningly. "I have seen it."

They went back inside Orthanc. Gandalf preferred to speak outside where all was light and beauty; the interior design of Orthanc was definitely not very cheerful. Its sharp black walls and cold marble floors invited no song or merrymaking of any kind whatsoever. Gandalf often referred to it as a "morgue" because it was cold enough to keep dead people preserved until burial. But it suited Sauruman, who seemed just as suited to its chilling design and room temperature. He hovered now around a tall marble block upon which was set a perfectly round, smooth stone, which gleamed like a large black marble pearl. It was a seeing-stone, a palantir. Sort of like a crystal ball, it allowed one to see and communicate with other things, namely Sauron. Gandalf never touched it and had never bothered with it, being distrustful and nervous about it, but Sauruman, thinking that the wizards were so high and mighty, felt that it was right to use such a stone.

"The palantir is a dangerous tool, Sauruman," said Gandalf, as they approached it. Sauruman took off the covering.

"Why? Why should we be afraid to use it?" he asked. Gandalf stared. It wasn't safe.

"They are not all accounted for, the lost seeing-stones. We do not know who else may be watching!" He threw the covering back on, hiding from sight the terrible Eye that had been listening in on their conversation (when the cloth had been taken off, that is). Sauruman stepped back, shrugged, and then sat down in his chair.

"The hour is later than you think. Sauron's forces are moving. The nine have left Minas Morgul."

"The nine!" Gandalf stopped dead in his tracks, the name sounding like lead to his ears. Desperate fear raced through his veins.

"They crossed the river of Isen on mid-summer's eve, disguised as black riders."

Terror grew in Gandalf's heart. "They've reached the Shire!"

A smile flitted across Sauruman's wicked face, curling into a sneer. "Sauron knows of where the Ring might be found," he said. "He also knows of this new visitor to Middle Earth. You did not know that news traveled so fast! A dragon, I hear, is what they call her, but there is no dragon that Sauron cannot tame. They will find the One Ring and this maiden. And they will kill the one who protects them both."

"Frodo!" Gandalf gasped and turned. But the doors to which he turned to slammed shut. Sauruman was shutting them, using his power to keep Gandalf in! Every other door Gandalf turned to was shut, and hope was locked out. The gray pilgrim turned back to the hideous shape upon the chair, who was sneering and looking so very proud of himself.

"You did not seriously think that a hobbit could contend with the will of Sauron! There are none who can. Against the power of Mordor, there can be no victory. We must join with him, Gandalf. We must join with Sauron." Gandalf couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was impossible. Sauron? Link up with him? What on earth was his elder and (supposedly) wiser trying to think and say? It wasn't a very good idea at all.

"Tell me, friend," he said, slowly, trying to be patient. "Since when did Sauruman the Wise abandoned reason for madness?"

Sauruman's eyes grew as large as dinner plates, and his brows furrowed in anger. Gripping his staff, he raised it and a powerful blow slammed Gandalf across the room and into the wall. Ignoring the pain, Gandalf lashed back, and it was Sauruman's turn to feel the slamming. Back and forth they went, around the room, slamming each other into the wall with their staffs, the room filled with their terrible moaning and raised screams. Blood trickled down their foreheads. Flesh was scraped across the floor, and bodies were bruised, though neither of them gave up. The chamber was filled with their cries of pain, vengeance, and hurt. At last, Gandalf dealt Sauruman a crushing blow, which knocked him across the room and burst the doors open. Wearily he got to his feet, wincing with the pain. But then Sauruman dealt Gandalf another terrible blow and snatched the latter's staff from his hands as if an invisible force were yanking. Now, with both staffs, Sauruman approached the poor wizard, his white claws shaking and his face a mask of twisted rage. He began to spin Gandalf around on the floor.

"I gave you the change to join me willingly," he raged. "But you have elected the way of pain!"

With both staffs, he raised them up into the air, and Gandalf went sailing up, hollering out. Up, up, up into the darkness he went, the world passing him by and the terrible wind whistling in his ears. Then all went black, and he knew no more.

When he awoke, he was at the very top of Orthanc, and rain had begun to fall. Closely he tucked his arms around him, to ward off the chill, and then thought of Frodo, who was supposed to meet him at the Prancing Pony. He would have to let him down this once. What would happen to his friend? What would happen to Adelaide? The wizard was suddenly very frightened for the girl. If the Nazgul should find her…and what would happen if she was captured? Sauruman was a traitor, and both Frodo, Sam and Adelaide were in trouble!

* * *

"I miss my car."

Adelaide's feet were sore. She and the hobbits had been hiking for a little over a week, and did not stop very often. The terrain varied from corn fields to hillsides, and from forests to rocky gorges. Adelaide's feet were not necessarily properly attired, and she was a woman with a woman's needs. She loved hiking, but without feminine necessities, port-a-potties, proper shoes, and a decent bar of chocolate, she was feeling very low indeed. The hobbits were cheerful, and spoke to one another as they traveled. But Adelaide felt very out-of-place and upset.

"Darling, try not to think about your car," Frodo replied patiently.

"It was gorgeous," Adelaide wailed. "It was a piece of shit, really, but it was a little red Jeep Cherokee with only about 65,000 miles on it, fabulous gas-mileage, and I could DRIVE it. And I LEFT it back…wherever it was that I left it."

"What's a car?" Sam asked.

"Paradise," Adelaide said moodily. "I'd give my bank account, credit-card and all, to have my car right now."

"You poor thing," Frodo patted her hand, wishing he were taller. "You're not used to this, are you, Adelaide?"

"Quite frankly, I am used to going hiking with the proper equipment, and all I have on my feet right now are Sketchers that are about as useful as a fish out of water. Come on. Can we please just halt a minute?"

They were walking through Farmer Maggot's cornfield. With a worried look on his face, Frodo stopped short and tugged Adelaide to the ground. She winced and hugged her arms over her stomach. For the first time in a long time she was getting cramps, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But she couldn't feel any blood flow. Perhaps there was something else wrong with her. Sam knelt beside her.

"Do you need any of your tablets, Miss Adelaide?"

"Tablets? What—you mean my 800 mg IBProfin? I don't think I brought any along."

"They're in your First Aid kit," Frodo reached around and felt around her backpack. To Adelaide's supreme delight, he brought out a small Halloween package of M&M's, all squashed and probably melted, and over 17 years old, but Adelaide didn't care—it was CHOCOLATE.

"Adelaide, what's this?"

She hastily snatched them from his hand. "Stress Pills," she replied, gulping them down. Frodo and Sam stared at her, and then at each other.

"I've never seen—" Sam started to say something, but Adelaide was on her feet again.

"I feel like Superman," she announced. "Oof!"

"Adelaide, rest here for a moment, please," Frodo begged. "Sam and I will go on. The forest isn't far from here, and we'll meet you at the edge, alright?"

"I'm okay!" Adelaide insisted. "Really, I am!"

"Please, Adelaide…" Frodo gave her that look. "Don't exert yourself. You're tired. Just rest and catch up to us in a few minutes, okay?"

"Bullshit!" Adelaide cried, but the hobbits were already moving off. Stung, Adelaide clenched her teeth, ignored the pain, and got to her feet. The hobbits were already lost in the cornfield, and she was sure she'd never find them. Which way was the forest anyway? How far? She couldn't see over the stalks of corn to save her life.

She started off in a general direction, swearing dreadfully under her breath.

Suddenly, the corn rustled, and Frodo grabbed her hand, yanking her back in between cornstalks and down on the soft earth. He rolled on top of her, and Adelaide let out her breath in a whoosh of air. Her cramps were doing murder.

"Oh damn!" she whimpered. "Oh damn, oh fuck, oh hot-fudged damn…"

Frodo smiled. "Did I break anything?"

"Just my pride."

"Why, you ARE hurting!" Frodo lifted himself off her gently. "Where at, Adelaide?"

"I've got cramps," she explained. "Dreadful ones."

Frodo was concerned. "You should have taken your medicine."

"Oh, never mind the damn medicine. I only take those when I absolutely have to."

"Honey, is…are you…well, is it…your…time of month?" He whispered so softly that she could barely hear him. She chuckled.

"I don't know. Feels like it, though."

Frodo kissed her tenderly. "Would you like me to make it go away?"

"Hmph, you wish. Oh, oh honey, sweetie, please don't put anything down there right now, it's very sensitive—"

She shut up and started breathing easier as his fingers massaged and fondled her gently. He kissed her throat and nuzzled against her cheek. "You're quite fun as a…well, how tall are you, anyway?"

"Five feet and eight inches."

"Tall enough." Frodo kissed her again. "Adelaide, I think we should have a family."

"I'd love one."

There! Frodo's face lit up. This was a romantic spot to propose, it was perfect! But before he could say anything, Adelaide wrinkled her brow and reached up to play with a curl of his hair. "Oi, where's the third wheel?"

"I let him get ahead of me for a bit, and then I came back here. I wanted to be with my little mushroom."

"Mushroom, my fanny."

"It's a pretty one. Turn over, and let me have a look."

"Lord God A-mighty, Frodo, you don't want to look right now. I haven't had a bath in a while. Besides, I believe our third wheel is looking for you."

"Oh? How do you kno—"

"Mr. Frodo?"

"Damn!"

Adelaide gasped. "Frodo! Was that—"

"Oh, shut up, Adelaide." The hobbit angrily leaped to his feet. "You use it all the time." He led her through the corn to where the sound might be coming from, and then stepped out into the middle of the path, Adelaide not far behind.

"Sam!" he said. Sam looked up in surprise, and then let his breath out with a whoosh.

"I'd thought I'd lost you," said the stout hobbit.

"What are you talking about?" asked Frodo.

"It's just something Mr. Gandalf said," replied Sam, coming up to Frodo.

"What did he say?" asked Frodo, curious.

"He said, 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee!' and I don't mean to."

"Sam, we're still in the Shire," said Frodo, smiling. "What could possibly happen?"

At that moment, the cornstalks rustled, and two forms crashed through the vegetation and knocked Sam, Frodo, and Adelaide down. They were hobbits, but who?

"Merry! Look! It's Frodo Baggins!"

"Hello, Frodo!" said Merry, smiling at the confused hobbit beneath Pippin. Both hobbits had a large quantity of vegetables in their hands, and seemed to be running from something. Sam heaved Pippin off his master, while Merry whistled. He had landed on Adelaide.

"Whoohoo, Pippin! Look who I landed on! Whew! Adelaide, you should be under me more often!"

"And you should try it with me on top."

"What's the meaning of this?" gasped Frodo, while Sam dusted him off and checked for bruises. "Meriodoc Brandybuck, get off of her!"

Adelaide got up by herself and picked the hobbit off her as if he were just a little child. Merry swayed.

"Whoa, Adelaide, you grew up fast!"

"Gandalf gave her back her normal height," snapped Frodo, taking hold of Adelaide's hand. "And stop flirting with her, will you?"

"Hold these," said Merry, and he and Pippin stuck a whole bunch of vegetables into the arms of Sam. They were still loading the vegetables on, when they heard dogs barking.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!" cried Sam. The voices of an angry hobbit farmer could be heard, and then a pitchfork was seen high in the air. Adelaide did not like the sound of that. Farmer Maggot had always been very kind to her, but Frodo had never gotten over his fright of the farmer's vicious dogs. Adelaide didn't want Frodo in any more trouble than he already was. Neither did Pippin or Merry. They grabbed Frodo and Adelaide, and hurried them off into the cornfield from whence they had come. Sam looked at the vegetables he held in his arms; he thought the matter over and then dropped the vegetables, fleeing.

The others were gabbing as they raced along.

"Don't know why he's so upset! It was just a couple of carrots!"

"And potatoes. And some cabbages. And…and then the mushrooms we lifted last week!"

"I know that, Pippin! My point is, he's clearly overreacting!"

The hobbits had perhaps overreacted themselves, running so hard that they hadn't looked where they were going. Adelaide, being the tallest, had sprinted out in front of them all, with Pippin just behind her, Frodo, and then Merry. Sam was still huffing and puffing behind, trying to catch up. Adelaide couldn't see, though, with the sun in her eyes and her head pounding in the heat. She thought she was going straight, when suddenly she saw the edge of what looked like a cliff, her instincts warned her, and she screeched to a halt. Pippin piled up behind her, and Frodo bumped into him, with Merry right behind. Adelaide, being a strong lass, kept her balance, with all those hobbits behind her, but Sam's arrival bowled her over, and she crashed down, rolling into the undergrowth and through the dirt. She landed at the bottom of the pile, with every other hobbit on top of her. And there was a pain in her stomach.

"Ooh, that was close," said Pippin cheerfully.

"I'm paralyzed," Sam muttered.

"Oooho, _fuck_!"

"Adelaide, watch your mouth!"

"But there's a rock digging into my belly, and it's sharp!"

"I think I broke something," moaned Merry, and held up a broken carrot.

"Some journey," said Sam. "Trust and Brandybuck and a Took!"

"It was a detour," said Merry professionally. "A shortcut!"

"Shortcut to what?"

"Mushrooms!" squealed Pippin. _Oh great_, figured Adelaide. _Mushrooms. Now_ _we'll never get out of here_. Hobbits have a passionate fondness for mushrooms, and hence the reason why Frodo often gave her such a nickname. But now that they had found them, it was going to take a while to get the hobbits to fully understand that she, Frodo, and Sam were in a hurry. She let the hobbits bounce off of her, and then stood up, still spitting dirt and kicking the rock off to the side of the road. She looked around.

They had landed in a ditch next to the side of a long dirt road, possibly taken by few passers; it didn't look well-trod upon. Trees loomed up on either side of them. This must have been the Old Forest, then, that Adelaide had heard about from different sources. She had heard about how it was supposed to be haunted, with walking trees, Elves, and magic, but that seemed silly. The forest was real enough, and the trees were rooted firmly into the ground. The sun was now shaded from their sight; little of it streamed through the green leaves on the thick tangle of boughs above their heads. Over to the right of them there was a little ledge, where, as Adelaide looked over, there was a nice little cave, made from the great roots of the tree. She smiled slightly. She liked little knolls and natural caves.

Frodo had stood up, with disheveled hair and twigs on his clothing. There weren't any broken bones on him, but he was feeling very oddly.

"I think we should get off the road," he casually mentioned to his friends, trying not to panic. As he looked down the roadside, it seemed to twist and spirialize before his very eyes, forming a vast hollow blackness at the center twist. Leaves rustled and stirred, and he could vaguely hear the voice of the Ring, a soft, low, haunting voice, speaking in the foul tongue of Mordor. He panicked.

"Get off the road!' he cried to his friends, still gathering mushrooms. "Get off!"

He hurried to grab Sam and the others. Merry clasped the bag of mushrooms and they dived down where Adelaide was sitting under the knoll. Adelaide grinned. "Comfy, no?" she asked. Frodo didn't answer. Wedged between his lass and Merry, he leaned his head on her shoulder. _Something's wrong_. _Frodo was happy a few minutes ago. Something's very wrong_.

"Shut up," she hissed to the others. Sam shut his mouth, but the others were still arguing over the mushrooms. Adelaide gripped Merry's arm in a vice of steel. "I said to shut _up_!" she hissed. "Listen!"

Hoof-beats, those of a great horse, grew closer and closer, before they finally stopped over the edge of the knoll. Adelaide peeked out. Good Gracious God Almighty, the hooves were black, and cut to the bone, splintered and streaked with blood. The leg was black. The stench of blood and sweat was overpowering; Adelaide recognized the smell from the times when she and Eowyn had raced horses over very long distances, but this odor was at least ten times worse. No ordinary horse! Adelaide wasn't sure that she wanted to meet the rider.

Frodo had looked out too, but he quickly drew his eyes back to his knees. He was feeling a great pull inside his body. This was fear; this was a mortal, dreadful fear of something evil; a power of Mordor, a dark power of Sauron, perhaps. A cold sweat clutched at him; held him captive in the cold fear. Ice-cold, it froze his very veins, and his heart pounded within his chest. He did not move, nor speak, but his lip trembled. Adelaide put an arm about Frodo. Then she peeked out again. The rider had come off the horse with a clang and a clash. She heard a horse's snort. And then something crouched over the knoll, something with metal and fluttering robes. Adelaide could hear the flutter; she could see the steel hands, draped in metal with spikes, like fish's mail. So intently did those hands grasp the knoll that Adelaide feared the ledge would break, and they would be discovered. But she kept silent. The others spoke nothing. You could have heard a pin drop. But instead, an ominous sniffing, like a bloodhound, sliced through the tense and stuffy air. The metal claws gripped.

Adelaide looked over at Frodo. He was losing control of himself. He looked sick, as his fingers played with the Ring, toying with the idea of putting it on and escaping. But Adelaide knew too much to be fooled by all that. She leaned over to grab Frodo, and suddenly jerked her arm back. A snake was slithering from inside the log and over her leg. The very ground was crawling with worms. Insects and an (ick) spider were crawling across shoulders and knees. The very presence of the…er, whatever it was—it was making the creatures nervous.

Frodo was definitely losing it. He had the Ring out, and he was going to slip it onto his finger. The sniffing intensified, and a low growling, almost purring noise ensued. The damned black creature was going to find It! Suddenly, Sam reached over and gripped Frodo's shoulder. Merry grabbed the mushroom sack and threw it elsewhere, to distract. Frodo's eyes opened, he put the ring away, and a spine-tingling, animal shriek split the air. There was a whoosh as the robes fluttered away, the horse snorted, and the hoof-beats charged down the road, in a fit of mad rage, opposite to the hobbits and Adelaide.

The hobbits jumped up and tore down the brush and thicket, dodging trees and rocks, to find a place to catch their breath in peace. Adelaide followed the hobbits. They were lying near a clump of trees in bewilderment, and Frodo was gasping for air.

"What _was_ that?" asked Merry. Frodo didn't answer; he shook his head, and then looked at the hoop of innocent gold in his clenched fist. Adelaide gathered up Pippin and Merry.

"We've got to get out of here," she said. "Whatever that was, he'll be looking for us. I don't doubt that he's some kind of wacky spy for…well, you know who."

"I _don't_ know—" began Merry, but then Frodo and Sam started running after Adelaide, so the other two shrugged their shoulders and followed. The day was hastily turning into dusk, and then night. The moon shone overhead, and clouds swirled like pudding, but not a star appeared. Adelaide covered her face with her hands. She would just have to adjust to Middle Earth standards now. This was no longer the protected environment of the Shire; this was now a hunted area, and she had responsibilities.

"Don't panic," she told herself steadily. "You have four hobbits to watch out for. And yourself. Just shut up and do it. Don't panic!"

"Adelaide, stop talking to yourself," said Merry, shivering. "It's making me nervous."

"Get down!" cried Frodo, throwing Merry to the ground. Adelaide dropped. All four hobbits and the girl looked through the bushes. There was an awful sound, like an animal wail. And then they saw it.

The Black Rider looked like some kind of Headless Horseman or phantom of death upon his black steed. Adelaide researched back into her brain-box, but she couldn't remember what these creatures were. She tried to follow the hobbits as softly as she could; they had the gift of moving quietly without being heard at all, but Adelaide was a big person with Sketchers, and she almost took off her shoes before remembering that there were probably snakes and spiders around, if those Black Riders spooked them up from the ground. She paused by a tree.

"Anything?" asked Sam.

"Nothing," replied Frodo, sweat trickling down his face. Merry and Pippin came up behind, huffing and looking tired.

"_What_ is going _on_?" asked Pippin.

"That Black Rider was looking for something…or someone," said Merry, in that voice which he used only when he knew that something was up. "Frodo?"

"This is not the time to be discussing this, Merry Christmas," Adelaide hissed softly.

"Get down!" cried Sam, suddenly. They dropped. Another Black Rider passed them in the moonlight, standing ruthlessly upon a hilltop, his horse snorting. Then he turned, and rode away.

Frodo turned to his companions. His heart was dreadfully heavy, and his mind was all in a whirl. Gandalf had said nothing about these creatures! It was all so difficult to understand, but it was not so hard to get that these creatures were after him. Merry spoke true. The hard part was parting with them. Perhaps even leaving them to face these creatures alone! It was not what Frodo wanted.

"I have to get to Bree," he said, unconditionally, not asking, nor telling.

"Right," said Merry, thinking. "Buckleberry Ferry! Follow me!"

_What luck_, thought Adelaide, _that we found these two nincompoops. Buckleberry Ferry. God only knows where that is, if not Merry._

They raced through the trees, almost noiselessly, when suddenly a great shape loomed up in front of them, to the side. A great black horse it was, and the rider shrieked in triumph (if not surprise). The horse reared, the hobbits yelled, and they started tearing off through the forest. The great horse and rider followed. Adelaide got separated from the hobbits. _Damn it all_, she thought breathlessly, _this is not my idea of summer vacation!_ Scrambling to her feet, she raced off in the direction of the hobbits. Up ahead, it looked as though Frodo had previously had some trouble with the Nazgul, but had managed to evade them quickly enough. The others had leaped the fence ahead, and Adelaide could make out the twinkle of the moon on a body of water.

The Nazgul were coming fast behind Frodo. The others were shoving off, and calling for him. Adelaide was coming up behind him, amazed that he could run faster than her. She, on the other hand, was huffing and puffing and almost ready to have an asthma attack. And then, Frodo leaped. It seemed to Adelaide that he had leaped up higher and further and was necessary, for he nearly cleared the deck of the little ferry. But then he looked back.

"Adelaide!" he wailed.

"Oh shit!" she screamed. The jump was too far for her to make now, and the Nazgul were right on her tail. But she couldn't slow down; bad things happened whenever she tried slowing down. She was liable to trip and fall flat on her face. Unable to stop, she ran straight forward and took a running leap off the dock, landing in the water in a sort of half-dive-half-cannonball that made quite a wave and stung her back. Somehow in the melee she kicked and felt her shoe come off, but she wasn't going to spend time searching for it. She swam and caught up to the ferry, and Sam tried to pull her aboard. But Adelaide did not trust her weight to the little ferry.

"Forget it, Sam," she sputtered. "I'll just swim. Looks like rain anyway; we're in for a soaking."

"Adelaide, honey, are you alright?" Frodo leaned down to stroke her wet brow.

"I lost a shoe, so the other one and both socks are going to have to come off," Adelaide said, feeling very much alive and alert. "Because otherwise I'll look damned silly walking around with one shoe in Bree."


	14. Strider, MiddleEarth Ranger, Madam

Chapter 14

Strider, Middle Earth Ranger, Madam

* * *

The hobbits finally reached the landing of Bree, and by that time, Adelaide's skin had done the raisin effect, and her legs were very wobbly. Her head was absolutely frazzled, and she felt so tired that she had to rest for a bit before the hobbits went on. They sat with her for a bit, and though Merry and Pippin were still in the dark, they chaffed her hands and Sam gave her a bit of wine that he had brought along (for medical purposes). By and by she came around, and then stood up, ready to take on the world.

"I was born ready," she announced. "And hungry. So, where do we find the Pony-Palace, Prancing Pony, or whatever it's called? I've never been here before."

"Merry has," Frodo pointed out. "Can you lead us there, Merry?"

The tall hobbit nodded. Adelaide put her hands on her hips.

"Okay, team-huddle time. We're moving incognito, so let's blend with society. I'm not a hobbit, so let's just pretend that I'm your…I don't know, your mother or something."

"That's an odd thought," Pippin observed.

"Well, what else am I going to be? Your fucking lady of the night? I don't think so! Pippin, stop grinning. Leave the big-person chat up to me, okay? Just until we can get squared away with Gandalf. I'm hungry, damn it, and I'm not going to bed until I get some meat n' potatoes."

That proposal was welcomed by all, and soon the hobbits found themselves soaking wet and standing in front of a great wooden gate. Frodo knocked, and a small window opened. A mean, wizened face peered out, irritated.

"Hobbits!" he cried. "Four of them! And (gulp) a lady too! What business brings you to Bree?"

"We wish to stay at the inn," said Frodo. "Our business is our own."

The door ward looked them over. "Alright young sirs, there's no need to be feisty," he said. "I meant no offence. There's strange folk about. Have to be careful, you know! My duty to ask questions after nightfall!"

With that, the gate opened, and the hobbits walked on in. The man took of his hat to Adelaide, but it his head was already so soaked that she took it and flopped it back on his head. "Chill out, man," she said, and left him in a perfect state of bewilderment. Then she turned, and gasped.

Bree was a dirty, drunken town. The pathways were little more than muddy trenches. Alleyways were lined with ragged men and women. Carts of stinking, festering garbage rumbled past. One man, overweight, with rotten teeth, grabbed at Adelaide's arm, and she jerked back. The entire town was disgusting. But if Adelaide was scared, however, the hobbits were terrified. They were in the realm of big people now, and even though they had Adelaide, even she could not play nursemaid to all four at once. Adelaide felt that she was doing fine until Frodo pinched her.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, lovely, but we're here. Don't walk so fast!"

The Prancing Pony had three floors and there was an archway in the center that permitted entrance to the courtyard and yet supported the upper rooms. The dining room was large and spacious, and very warm and cheerful, despite the rowdy, drunken looks of the men who laughed and gambled and patted their women. Adelaide suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Some of the men were looking over at her, and their faces were not very friendly at all. She reached out instinctively for the protection of Frodo's hand, and he held onto her tightly, just in case any of the Big People got any nasty ideas.

A portly gentleman leaned over the front counter. He had muttonchops and wide eyes. Adelaide guessed him to be the all-bumbling Butterbur, the innkeeper. Now, how did she remember that? Adelaide thought for a minute and then chuckled; of course and duh, someone kept screaming his name.

"Good evening, little masters!" he said jovially. "And top o' the evening to you, little lady! How can I be of service? If you're looking for a room, we have some nice hobbit-sized beds; always glad to cater to little folk, Mr…uh…"

"Underhill…my name's Underhill," said Frodo. "We're friends of Gandalf the Gray; can you tell him we've arrived?"

Butterbur paused. "Gandalf? Gandalf?" Frodo waited patiently. "Oh _yes_! Old chap with a long beard and pointy hat!"

"Yes, yes, that's him!" said Frodo.

"Haven't seen him for six months," said Butterbur. Frodo's face fell. Adelaide's did too. No Gandalf meant something. Gandalf was never late, but nor was he early. He arrived precisely when he meant to. But usually that meant that he arrived on time. And this was a bad sign. Adelaide tried to think of all the things that could possibly be keeping him from an arranged date. It had to be something terribly important. Then she picked up where Frodo had left off.

"Well, we'll wait for him, if it isn't too much trouble," she said.

"Certainly, certainly," Butterbur said cheerfully. "And you'll be wanting dinner?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Adelaide grinned. "What's on the menu?"

Butterbur was distinctly puzzled by Adelaide's slang, but he was too stupid to actually put two and two together. Five dinners, directly, ma'am.

"And will you be wanting a room?" the innkeeper asked.

"I'll just room with them," Adelaide nodded over Frodo's way. "Mr. Underhill's mum was one of my biggest friends, and, well, you know how it is. Those four are all she had, and when she died…well, you know. And I've got at least five of my own; it's difficult to run a house with nine, so I figured I'd let Mr. Gandalf take them into his home."

"Oh, the old story," Butterbur nodded sympathetically. "I understand. Bless you, lady; take that table there in the corner, beside the fire, and I'll get one of the maids to bring you a towel. Dinner will be served directly."

Frodo stared with admiration at Adelaide. She had smoothly fixed the situation without a ruffle, and now they could be warm and have dinner and a room. And the alibi was a nice, plausible one. However did she think up of these things? "I saw it in a movie once," Adelaide replied, looking pleased. The hobbits had a chance to dry out and bathe before coming down for supper. The meals were delicious. The hobbits were served large platters of roast mutton, hot potatoes with gravy, cheese wedges with herbs, and bread with honey. They shared large beakers of ale, and conversed quietly. Adelaide was starving, and even Frodo remarked that he was glad to see her appetite returning.

"My God, I'm going to get fat," Adelaide whooshed. "It's all gonna go straight to the ol' hips."

Frodo grinned. "You'll work it all off again."

"You bet I will. Pass me the ale, Merry."

"Don't you dare!" Frodo was outraged. "Not here, Adelaide!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself," she replied rudely. "I want a drink. I think I need it."

"You need it like you need a hole in your head," Frodo quoted Adelaide self-consciously. "Stay sober, please!"

"Oh, you're no fun," Adelaide grumbled. "A woman's got to have a little fun once in a while." She broke off and traced patterns on the table. Frodo sighed and watched her, helplessly devoted. She could swear like a sailor and be rude for all she was worth, but he never stopped loving her. She was the little spark of dynamite that excited his life. He reached over to stroke her hand.

"Well, we'll have a bit of fun tonight, shall we?"

"Oh, honey, we've got three extra wheels," Adelaide chuckled. "You're fucking nuts. Put that thing back down where it belongs, and don't fly your flags until we're in a more appropriate situation, okay?"

Merry came back, bearing a huge mug of frothing beer. Frodo looked very much offended, but he very well couldn't say much to his friend. Adelaide just glared at the beer. It wasn't fair that they drink in front of her…especially since she was a lady and couldn't have any.

"What's that?" asked Pippin, enthralled with the big jug.

"This, my friend, is a pint," said Merry, eyeing it with interest. Pippin gasped.

"They come in pints?"

"Urm!" Merry was drowning in the answer.

"I'm getting one," said Pippin, and leaped from his seat.

"You've had a whole half of one already!" Sam sputtered in disbelief.

"That does it," Adelaide snapped, and followed Pippin. Besides, Pippin was a loudmouth, especially when he was drunk. The situation could easily be fixed by having an adult around—or, at least, a Big Person.

Sam leaned over.

"That fellow's done nothing but watch you since we arrived," he said to Frodo, pointing to a man in a corner. Frodo turned and looked. There was a man seated in a small corner, unnoticed, and not bothered. His legs were stretched before him on a stool in front of glowing embers, and he was smoking a pipe. His worn fingers clutched the little spout without much care, and his bedraggled face gave heed to something mysterious. His face was shrouded by a hood. Frodo turned away, frightened, and then touched Butterbur's tunic, as he passed.

"Excuse me," he said. Butterbur leaned down. "That man in the corner. Who is he?"

"He's one of them rangers," said Butterbur mysteriously (cue cheesy western music). "Dangerous folk from the wild. What his real name is I don't know, but around here, he's known as Strider."

He walked away, and Frodo felt suddenly dizzy, as if the name had put a spell on him. Strider! Where had he heard that name before?

Adelaide followed Pippin to the bar and ordered herself a beer. As she sat on the stool, swinging her legs and tapping her fingers on the counter, a tap on her shoulder made her turn.

"Evenin', ma'am." The man facing Adelaide looked like trouble with a capital T, if you could see below all the layers of grime. He was fingering an apple. His hair was unruly, and his teeth were yellow and rotting. But his eyes shifted with a crafty gleam. "My name's Bill Ferny, liddle cutie. What's yores?"

"I don't think that's any of your goddamn business."

"What's your name, my pretty girl?" Bill repeated, breathing heavily. He stank of beer and tobacco, two things that Adelaide never mixed. She wrinkled her nose. The man was drunk. She twitched her nose

"Let's get something straight. I'm not your pretty girl, and if you don't get your smelly mug out of my face, there won't be a mug to go around smelling anymore. Get it?"

"Where ya from?"

"That's none of your fucking business, either."

Ferny spat. "I ain't never seen yer here b'fore."

"Probably because I've never BEEN here before, ant-brain."

"Think yer smart, doncha?"

"Look, why don't you get off it and bug some other person?"

But Bill Ferny was not to be put off. As Strider had intently watched Frodo, so Ferny had pasted his peepers on the sight of the beautiful young woman—a hard thing to find in Bree! He had come to the conclusion, after some quick deductions, that this was no adult matron with children…nor a local gal in either Bree or the Shire. A pretty foreigner in Bree, with four hobbits, needed interrogation. So thus he began his inquisition, growing bolder by the minute, and more impatient by the second.

"You don't have the Shire look," he rumbled, drawing closer. Adelaide pressed herself back against the counter, revolted. "You ain't got the curly hair—" he touched a strand of Adelaide's still soaking locks. "And you ain't got padded feet. You ain't dressed like a hobbit, neither."

"Well, aren't you clever. At the rate you're going, you might even get past pre-kindergarten."

"Eh? How long you been livin' in the Shire?"

"I said, it was none of your damned business."

Bill Ferny grabbed her wrist. "Think yer so damned smart an' uppity, don't yer? Foreigner!" he spat in her face. "I know some folks who'd give out the back of their purses t'have you alive…"

Adelaide was frightened. She could stick to her story for all her sugar was worth, but it did no good if she couldn't back it up with persons, places, times, or things familiar to the Middle Earth world. Bill Ferny twisted her words, lied, and smoothly figured out what Butterbur had not—this was indeed the young lady from Rohan. Adelaide had no way of knowing, but there was a price on her head, and Bill Ferny was out to claim it. He recognized her as a foreigner. How many people went around in Boston Red Sox T-shirts? Adelaide wished she'd borrowed some clothes from one of the whores upstairs.

"You ran away from Edoras, in Rohan," Bill Ferny smiled. "There's a nice sum of money out for yer. In gold. _Gold_."

Adelaide narrowed her eyes. Well, damn it all; sure, she might be a dumb-ass as far as Middle Earth geography and history was concerned, but nevertheless, what was this dickhead going to do about it? Sound the alarm at least ten-thousand miles away from Rohan? Bullshit. Adelaide began to fight back with her words—extending Ferny's notion of bad language to the ninth degree.

"You want to know what I think about that? I think she was smart to leave, 'cause some jackass worm decided to crawl in and make life a fucking hell, as if his own balls weren't pain enough. Anyone who sympathizes with a cocksucker like that oughta just—"

And so on, and so forth!

Frodo's head swam. He had a vague feeling of many things; he was hearing Adelaide's voice, the cruel whisperings of the men; he was seeing hazy objects, and soon, he could only hear his name being called. The Ring knew that he was not Mr. Underhill, at any rate. He began to finger it.

_Baggins…Baggins…Frodo Baggins…BAGGINS_

"Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!"

Frodo started out of his dream-like trance. Pippin was speaking to a bunch of men, and he poined back to Frodo.

"He's over there," continued Pippin. "Frodo Baggins! He's my second cousin, once removed from his mother's side!"

"Pippin! Stop!" screamed Frodo, rushing over to his cousin.

"Steady on, Frodo!"

The hobbit slipped, and Frodo fell onto the floor. The Ring was suspended into the air, and for five seconds, no one moved or breathed. It was falling straight towards the hobbit's outstretched hand.

Adelaide used that moment to swiftly bring her knee up, catching the lecherous Mr. Ferny in the family jewels. She relished the sick, groaning noise he made as he doubled over, and the lights flickered. As Ferny coughed and fondled his goods back to their normality, Adelaide rushed over to where Frodo was. One of the men, who had been watching to situation, whacked her violently on the head; Adelaide saw stars, and then everything blacked out…including Frodo.

When she came to, she saw Frodo, not far away, underneath a table. He had taken off the Ring, and was panting for breath. Suddenly, a hooded figure walked up, grabbed the hobbit by his collar, and jerked him off the ground, pulling him away toward a wall where no one could see them."You draw too much attention to yourself, Mr. _Underhill_," the man hissed. Adelaide rose to her feet shakily. What the hell was Frodo getting himself into now?

Butterbur came to help her up. "I'm very sorry, ma'am!" he blustered. "It was an accident, I assure you. Bill Ferny won't be coming back here for a while, I can tell you that! Shame on him!"

"Yeah, shame on him," said Adelaide weakly.

"But…er…you might have rendered him infertile—"

"Well, let's hope the whores don't mind," Adelaide said, and raced up the stairs where the man had taken Frodo. She was feeling sore, but not so sore that she couldn't give that bastard a piece of her mind. She saw him disappear down a long hallway, with doors on either side. She heard a door slam, tried to detect which one it was, and busted in. It was the wrong door, as she had unwittingly found out. The couple inside were madder than hell, and Adelaide could think of nothing better than, "Excuse me; so sorry," and so forth. She backed out and tried to listen quietly for any new noise. She found it coming from the fifth door down on the right. But she did not bust in this time, and quietly listened.

Inside, the man was berating poor Frodo. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely! That is a rare gift!"

"Who are you?" Adelaide heard Frodo's desperate voice.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes," Frodo finally decided.

"Not frightened enough," said the man. "I know these creatures more than you. I know what hunts you! You cannot escape the shadow forever."

_This guy is nuts_, decided Adelaide. _He's either a bad guy or a good guy, and I'm going to go with nuts_. She turned the door handle and quick as a flash strode inside. Her knife was out before she even knew she was reaching for it, and she threw it blindly without even realizing she was trying to. The man whirled just in time, and the knife bounced off the wall. Adelaide rushed forward, but the man's sword was out and the girl pulled up short. The man faced her calmly.

"You have a brave heart, lady. But this is no time for heroic actions. If you impede my mission with such thoughtlessness, I'll have no choice but to impede _you_ for life."

"Don't you hurt her!" Frodo yelled. "Don't you dare hurt her! Would you harm a lady?"

The man turned to Frodo with a look of amusement on his face. He sheathed his sword. "Did you think that I would harm a lady?" he asked, a smile on his face. "Never. That is not my way. Yet she has attacked me in a most unseemly style. And it _is_ my way to defend myself."

"You started it," Adelaide snapped. "Picking on my boyfriend like that. Why don't you go fight dragons?"

"I have no time for idle questions."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway, Officer Malone?" Adelaide held out her hand and Frodo rushed to stand beside her. The man's lips flashed in a quick smile.

"Goodness, such a tongue on such a lady."

"It's got talent. So. Who are you?"

"It is I that should be asking that of you."

"That'll be none of your goddamned business, thanks."

"Then I must insist upon it." The man drew his sword and kept the tip at Adelaide's throat. "Do not bandy words with me, lady. I already know much of you from what I have seen and heard. I know you have lived in Rohan and you have spent time in the Shire, and I know, too, that you are a foreigner. But come! Will you not tell me your name?"

"If you know so much about me, you ought to know my name. Put that sword back where it belongs, or…or…or else," she finished lamely.

"Alas and alack, fair damsel, after seeing your actions with Bill Ferny, I shall ultimately surrender." He smiled. "There's enough trouble in a Ranger's life without ghosts or broken eardrums or castration. Any little girl with a mind of her own is never in distress, after all."

That was familiar! "Hey, don't I know you?" Adelaide put her hands on her hips and stared at the man. He was smiling a very familiar, cocky smile. Then she broke out into a grin and snapped her fingers. "Strider!"

"Madam." He bowed. "I see you've finally grown too big for pig-a-back."

"And horsey. Sucks for you."

"My heart is broken." He picked up her hand and kissed it. "Adelaide Edessa. Rohan's little rogue! I must confess I did not expect you to be traveling with…with the hobbit," he indicated Frodo, who was, by this time, looking very bewildered. "But this is a bonus. Had you two been traveling separately—but I see you are a bit loathe to part company, are you not?—the task to keep you both safe would be difficult."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Do you not know that there is a price on your head?"

"News to me. How much?"

"A thousand pounds in gold, if I mistake it not."

"Wow, I'm famous AND expensive!"

"Infamous, rather. Word of you has spread; you can no longer afford to be—shall we say—non-secretive and open. Have a care, madam, and trust me as you once did. I have been asked to protect and guide you—the BOTH of you."

"Will someone please explain what's going on?" Frodo looked up at Adelaide, and she knelt to be at eye-level with him. Quickly she explained that Strider was the very man who had rescued her when she had run away from Bag End, the same man she had told Frodo about when she came back and recounted her adventure. Before Frodo could reply, the door burst open, and in came Merry, Pippin, and Sam. Sam's fists were doubled up, Merry held a candle, and Pippin was trying to look braver than he probably felt, holding a stool. Sam was shaking with rage.

"Let him go, or I'll have you, longshanks!" he cried to Strider. The man sheathed his sword in amusement.

"It seems I am surrounded by a host of fierce warriors, the lady included. You have a stout heart, little hobbit," he added. "But that will not protect your master. You cannot wait for the wizard, Frodo. They are coming."

* * *

That evening, Merry, Pippin, and Sam made themselves comfortable and fell asleep soon enough. Strider sent Adelaide to fetch some water, extra blankets and pillows, and the leftover food from downstairs, and then he himself went to Butterbur and asked for some suitable clothing that might fit a young lady of Adelaide's proportions. One of the maids gave up her outfit in exchange for the money that Frodo pressed into Strider's hand, and Adelaide quickly changed into a scratchy wool gown and apron, rolling up her other clothes and stuffing them into her backpack to save for later. She was surprised and pleased that Strider included her in his arrangements for the evening; that is, he asked her to participate in his plan to save the hobbits, and she did as he instructed without question. He was completely random and a master of improvisation, but at least he was organized about it, and Adelaide had respect for anyone who could execute an organized—even if completely random—plan. She fluffed the pillows and added some brown, woolly mats to imitate hobbit-heads, and then she quietly closed the door and added a "Do Not Disturb" sign for effect. Then she slipped back away across the street to another inn where Strider and the hobbits were staying. Frodo was wide awake, but Sam, Pippin, and Merry were sound asleep. Strider kept watch.

"Did you do it properly?" he asked her as she closed the door softly behind her.

"Of course. I even added some extra pillows for my bulk in Frodo's bed," she chuckled. "It looks like we're having a grand old time."

* * *

Outside, strange wails could be heard from across the hills. The rain had stopped, but the moon had come out. In the surrounding forests of the town, something stirred; evil walked abroad, and the Black Riders came on towards Bree. Since Frodo had slipped the Ring onto his finger, they had heard the call of their master, and knew now where this precious thing was located. Meanwhile, the hobbits slept soundly.

_The sounds of hoofbeats approached the gate. The gatekeeper was flattened by his own door as he tried to detect the images of the black horses and their masters. On the Riders came, through Bree, all nine of them. The silence was split by their screeching. Determination and lust for the Ring swept over Bree; the Riders had come for their master's delight. No moonlight shone on them, save for the beams uncovering their metal hands, and giving them a cold luster. They reined in at the Pony and dismounted._

_They drew their swords._

_Bursting in upon the dark and silent inn, they roused poor Butterbur, who sat behind his desk and whimpered in fear of his life. Never before had such times of evil fallen upon Bree; these dark riders could only have come from the land of Mordor, a land known only in tales of fear and mystery. But no more. It was real. The Riders were making their way up the stairs. They came to a door. Without knocking, they entered, and then stole swiftly and silently around the four tiny, hobbit-sized beds. _

Sam rolled over in his sleep.

Pippin murmured.

_The Black Riders raised their swords before their faces. They stood before the beds simultaneously, and like ominous Grim Reapers, they clasped their swords in deadly hate and expectation. The tremor was high._

Merry snored.

_The swords became poised over the beds of the hobbits; ready at ease, and not even quivering._

Sam snored.

_Then the swords struck._

_With a silver ring, the swords came downward to the bed, and stabbed_.

Sam woke up.

_The swords kept slashing and stabbing. Feathers flew everywhere. And then, the Riders stopped to survey their bloody work. They tore off the sheets_.

_Only pillows did they find, slashed and broken into a thousand tiny pieces; the result of their hate. The Riders had been fooled by Strider, who was sitting in another inn across the way with the hobbits and Adelaide. They all heard an enormous wail, and then a shriek of anger. The horses whinnied and pawed the ground. Again, the Riders had failed Sauron. Again had they failed in their capture of the Ring._

Frodo shivered.

"What are they?" he asked. Strider turned to him.

"They were once men. Great kings of old. And then Sauron the Deceiver tricked them into giving him their rings of power. They were nine mortal men, doomed to die. And yet they wasted away. There is nothing left, save their evilness shrouded in black robes. They are the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths, and servants of Sauron. They will never stop hunting you."

"Fabulous," Adelaide said. "Just fabulous. So now what happens?"


	15. Over the River and Through the Woods

Chapter 15

Over the River and Through the Woods to Rivendell We Go!

* * *

"Me and my big, fat mouth." Adelaide grumbled, feeling worse every minute. The "cramps" had slowly begun to move upwards into her chest until it felt like there was a vise gripping her ribcage and squeezing her lungs, bones, and heart. She wasn't sure what on earth was going on; she had never felt sick like this before, and it made her angry. She didn't need to be sick while hiking!

And they were hiking! Strider had led them out of Bree and was taking them through the wilderness. He was leading them along the path that had once served the fortresses along the Hills. It hugged the west slopes and continued along the ridge. They left the Chetwood behind and took a path towards the Midgewater Marshes. But none of the hobbits were sure where Strider was ultimately leading them.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Frodo.

"Into the wild," said Strider. "You are knowledgeable about the wild, are you not?"

"Not very," Frodo responded, but Adelaide raised her hand.

"I am!"

"You? Madam, if I remember correctly, you were the one who was lost in the forest."

"Oh, hey, only directionally. But we Alaskans are survivalists."

Strider merely sniffed and looked around. "You have, at least, an optimistic spirit."

"Well, thank you. And you're, at least, pretty cool for a Park Ranger."

"A park this is not, Lady."

"Oh my God, don't even start with that."

"What?"

"That."

"What 'that'?"

"The 'Lady' business. Don't want to hear it."

"But you ARE a lady."

"No shit, Sherlock! But the lady has a name, so please USE it, okay? Thanks."

Later that evening, as the hobbits slept, Strider spoke to Adelaide.

"You have been a very brave young lady so far, but I will have further need of your aid in our journey. You must keep the hobbits close and their spirits up. We are about to head into the Midgewater Marshes, and—"

"Marshes? As in, like, swamps? There aren't any alligators, are there?"

"Any what?"

"Alligators. You know, big lizards that rip your arms off."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Whatever."

"If you have nothing useful to say, then do not bother me with you petty worries."

"Alligators are NOT petty worries. Besides, how am I supposed to know what kind of wild animals stalk around Middle Earth? I'm the foreigner, remember?"

The swamps were extremely muddy, and to make matters worse, the mosquitoes were born hell. They buzzed around everyone, but they seemed to bother Strider little. The ground was cold and wet, with spongy patches of grass and deep holes of muddy water. If this wasn't disgusting enough, it started raining. Adelaide cursed her woolen skirt that became very heavy and sodden with the rain. The hobbits kept tripping in the holes. Merry and Pippin waved their hands in front of their faces, and slapped their arms and legs.

"Argh! I'm being eaten alive!" cried Pippin.

"What do they eat when they can't get hobbit?" asked Sam, who was leading their newfound pony, Bill.

They trudged wearily through the swamp until they came to a place where the ground was harder and the mosquitoes had died off. Strider made a little fire, and together with Adelaide, went out to find some food. He killed it and Adelaide helped gut and cook it. Strider remarked on this.

"It's a good thing we have you along, at any rate," he said. "You have your uses."

"If this is going to be a friendship of utility, why don't I wash your socks, while we're at it?"

"I beg your pardon; I didn't mean to be insulting."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you didn't mean to be a chauvinist pig, either."

"Come again?"

"No, I won't. You sit there and try and play games with me in Bree, you're rude and disrespectful to me while hiking, and you don't believe that women should be playing with knives."

"It is our culture, maid. Women, as a general rule, are supposed to behave like ladies, and you, madam, are no lady."

"Beg pardon?"

"All nice girls and proper ladies wear gowns and enjoy being surrounded by at least five men who pay them delightful attentions. Ladies enjoy music and arts and the finer, more delicate things of life, for they are beautiful and symbolize that which every man desires to protect. Ladies have rules and standards of their cultures that they follow. You, on the other hand, are unique. You are not afraid of testing convention and rules."

Adelaide's mouth fell open. "Erm…well, I've never looked at it that way. That's…well, that's just the way Americans are, I think. But…but I think I follow rules. I mean, rules are necessary guidelines. I think what you mean is that I test proper etiquette. Miss Manners I am NOT."

"Then you are no lady. No proper lady flouts etiquette and years of tradition that keep the flawless, precious gift of femininity so untarnished and sacred."

"Wow, you're quite the poet."

"And you are not insulted, as I thought you might be."

"Okay, so women in Middle Earth are Porcelain Dolls. What am I supposed to do, cheer? I'm happy with the way I am, thank you—and, I might add, someone loves me just the way I am, too, so you can shove your idea of women up your pipe and smoke it."

Strider smiled briefly. "Little body, big heart, and broad mind. Not so little, anymore. I did like you better short."

"Huh, you just WISH you were carrying me pig-a-back so you could play horsey."

"You still enjoyed it."

"Oh, shut up."

"It seems I have a good deal more to learn of you."

"And I have a lot to learn about you, considering that I know your real name, where you were born, and whether or not you're going to live or die."

He paused. "Really? So the secret of my life hangs on the thin thread of a strange young woman...no, don't tell me, I don't want to know. But you might inform me of my real name."

"Attention, public, we have a man who doesn't know his own name!"

"Don't shout, maid, we're still being followed."

"I know that. I didn't shout. But I refuse to whisper, either."

"Do you always evade questions?"

"Hm?"

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I just made the connection yesterday. I think that's pretty good, considering the fact that I haven't read about Middle Earth for a while. You're Aragorn, the heir to the throne of Gondor." He was quiet for a moment, and wiped his blade on the grass. She watched him carefully. "You know, I think it would be a little less awkward if you acknowledged that statement with a 'yes' or a 'no.' I haven't got all night."

"So, Gandalf did speak correctly."

"Beg pardon?"

"He said you knew things."

"Oh, well, I AM in college. I should hope I know things."

"You knew of Middle Earth before you came here."

"Can this conversation please wait?" Adelaide twitched her nose in irritation. "You're starting to freak me out, and I don't like feeling like a…a…a Secret Agent, or something. Let me be normal for a little bit longer, okay? I was just beginning to feel settled. I don't want to know that I know anything, okay?" Adelaide winced as she felt her chest contract with pain. It settled down later as she cuddled up beside Frodo and went to sleep, his arm drawn over her waist.

Frodo was almost asleep when he heard Strider humming to himself. The tune was old, and the words ancient, written in Elvish, telling a tale that caught Frodo's attention. He had been listening as though the words were a lullaby, but now they touched his heart. Strider sang of a maiden of unfathomable beauty and untouchable power, the daughter of an Elven king who set her worth above all the jewels of the earth and all the princes and kings of the Elven realms. Where she danced and sang, there flowers bloomed and birds sang, and the light of Illuvatar was in her face, for she was the fairest creature on earth. But Strider also sang of her love for someone, a doomed love, and Frodo suddenly sat up with interest.

"Who is she?"

Strider turned.

"The woman you sing of…who is she?"

"'Tis the lay of Luthien Tinuviel. An Elvish woman who gave her love to Beren, a mortal man."

"What happened to her?"

"She died." Strider turned and saw Frodo sitting up slightly, one arm still draped around Adelaide's waist. A brief smile flickered over the man's lips. "Get some sleep, Frodo."

Frodo lay back down and thought long and hard about the song. It seemed to him that sometimes he were a mere mortal, like Beren, and that Adelaide was Tinuviel, like an Elvish maid, but not quite...and what would happen if she gave her love to him? Gandalf had spoken, and said that if the Ring were to fall into Enemy hands, she would stay in Middle Earth forever, which he wanted her to do...so did he thus want the capture of the Ring to come about? If so, and Adelaide ended up pledging her love to him, what good would it do? He didn't know what to do, or how to do it. He hoped with all his heart that he could pass the job off to someone else, someone who could do it more readily with all his wisdom and strength. Someone else could decide the fate of the Ring...he only wanted Adelaide.

The next morning, as the hobbits were packing up, Strider and Adelaide scanned the horizon.

"Looks like rain."

"Looks like trouble. For I am scanning where you are not thinking to look; we cannot stop for a moment. A day's march will hopefully lead us further away from the servants of darkness."

"But couldn't they catch up to us? They've got horses."

"Not if we move swiftly, lady."

"Dude. No more of this 'lady' business, okay? I _do_ have a name."

Strider ignored her and turned to the hobbits.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop 'til nightfall."

"What about breakfast?" asked Pippin. Strider stared at him.

"You've already had it."

"Oh, yes, we've had one. But what about second breakfast?"

Strider gave him a weird look, turned, and then walked away. Adelaide followed.

Merry came up behind Pippin. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip."

"Not about…! What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

Suddenly, from behind the bush, Adelaide threw out an apple. Merry caught that one, and he patted Pippin on the shoulder in a message of "good-luck." Pippin looked up at the sky, and then Strider threw an apple. It knocked Pippin on the head.

Later, everyone was feeling more in a rotten mood. Adelaide was in a self-pity mode of personal pain, and the hobbits were cold, hungry, wet, and tired—and completely unsure if Strider had all his marbles inside his head.

"How do we know this Strider is worth trusting?" asked Merry.

"We have no one else to trust," said Frodo. "Besides, I think that a servant of the Enemy would look fairer and feel fouler."

"He's foul enough," muttered Merry.

"But where is he taking us?" asked Sam. Strider, who had excellent ears, heard him.

"To Rivendell, master Samwise," he said. Sam gasped.

"Did you hear that, Mr. Frodo! Rivendell! We're going to see the Elves!"

_Oh hot dog._

"You're joking, right?" Adelaide called up to Strider. "We're not really going to see any Elves, are we?"

"Madam, from what I've heard of your earlier Elvish encounters, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't want to see you either."

* * *

Already dusk was falling, and they had hiked long and hard that day. Even Adelaide, despite her reputation as a healthy hiker, felt her legs turning into jelly, and her heart was pounding like a drum.

"Oh Lord Almighty, I'm so sleepy, you could give me a bed of nails, and I'd still sleep like a baby," she remarked. "Where are we, Chinatown?"

"This is Weathertop," said Strider. "It shall do for a shelter tonight."

"Is it anything first-rate? Five-star and all? Never mind, you're not listening."

Strider patiently explained that Weathertop was the highest of the Weather Hills, standing slightly apart and rising a thousand feet above the surrounding lowlands. From the top, one could get a very clear view of the terrain for miles around. Flat, and crowned by a tumbled ring of stones, it was all that remained of the old watchtower built in the early days of Arnor. Strider explained that the tower and the hills to the north had all been fortified after the fall of Rhudaur to Angmar, but in 1409, all had been lost, and the tower burned. Nothing remained but a few ruins and its lofty height. "It has another name: Amon Sûl, the Hill of Wind."

"I gather it's a bit breezy up there."

Later, as the sun was setting, and the rays left pink and yellow streaks in the sky, Strider passed out little swords to each of the hobbits, and to Adelaide, he gave a dagger.

"Your four-inch blade will do little against the Wraiths," he said. "I am sorry, but you shall have to abandon that idea, if you wish to protect your friends."

"I," said Adelaide angrily. "Will not even think about it. This is _my_ protection, so bug off. And where the hell are you going?"

"I am bugging off at your command, fair damsel," Strider said.

"Please, Strider. For real, where are you going?"

"To scout out the area." He took up his sword, which he had cleaned, and sheathed it. "I shall be back later. Do not fall asleep, maid. Guard the hobbits well."

"Good deal," yawned Adelaide. "I'll try. And for the record, please call me Adelaide."

She sat diligently into the night, and although she tried very hard to stay awake, she soon found herself falling asleep, whereupon Merry, Pippin, and Sam thought that a midnight snack might do them good, without the babysitter. They had a fire going, and were merrily talking away, when Frodo awoke. The first thing he saw was Adelaide, fast asleep and snoring away. He smelled the food cooking, and turned in horror to see his friends cooking over a fire.

"What are you doing?" he cried.

"Sausages. Tomatoes. Nice crispy bacon!" said Merry cheerfully.

"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. Frodo leaped to his feet, came over, and started stamping out the flames.

"Put it out, you fools, put it out!"

"Argh!"

"That's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!"

Adelaide jerked awake and almost rolled off Weathertop. "Whosizwatz…?"

Frodo grabbed her and pulled her up from the ledge; she scrambled backwards and lay panting for breath by the wall. The hobbits were looking down at the ground. A fine mist swirled over the rocks and bare patches of grass, but the moonlight from above gave light to the shadows that materialized out of the mist: four dusky phantoms, shrouded in black, and mounted upon black horses. They looked up and screeched wildly. "Go!" cried Frodo, drawing his sword and motioning his friends back inside the tower. Adelaide jumped up to go as well, then stalled, came back, and grabbed Frodo, pulling him inside. The hobbits had drawn their swords, and were huddled together inside the little temple thingy. Sparse grass grew here and there and crackled over the old, weather-beaten stones and statues. All around, were little entrances, made and formed out of the hollows of the doorways. Adelaide shivered. The wind had picked up considerably. "Hill of Wind" indeed! She clutched her pocket-knife and the dagger that Strider had given her.

Suddenly, Frodo turned, and saw a dark shape approaching him from behind. It was a Nazgul. He had drawn his sword and held it before him like a priest with a crucifix. Three other Nazgul approached from the "windows" of the tower, forming a military file and walking towards the huddled hobbits. Their metal boots clinked upon the stone ways. Sam bubbled over first. Crying out in rage, he attacked a Nazgul, poor angel, totally lacking skill.

"Back you devils!"

The Nazgul really didn't hurt Sam; he just twisted aside, and with the flick of the sword, turned the young hobbit's blade aside, and threw him into the wall. Sam hit his head and blacked out. Merry and Pippin stepped in front of Frodo, fearfully gazing up into the dark hollow of the Nazgul's face. He merely shoved them aside, and they too knocked their heads. That left it up to Adelaide, who was about as good with a dagger as a warthog with ballet—but what the hell, you never knew what you could do until you tried, right? Adelaide's first wild stab was blocked by one blow from the metal gauntlet, and the Nazgul grabbed her wrist, _hoisted her into the air_, and tossed her to one side like a rag doll.

At that, Frodo decided that he had had enough, and that he really wasn't a very good soldier.

_Strider, I'm gonna kill you for this_, Adelaide thought desperately, rolling over and getting to her feet to attack again. This time, she picked up a rock the size of a baseball and threw it with hobbit-skilled accuracy (having learned quite a bit from Merry). The rock struck a Nazgul on the side of the head, and he turned on her swiftly. Adelaide's blood was up, and she grabbed another rock, preparing to get Mr. Grim Reaper right through the kisser. The wraith simply ignored her. At the next moment, she cringed from his sword, and was drawn directly back into the arms of the wraith, who picked her up as if she were a feather and started carrying her off like a baby! Adelaide screamed. She could bear almost every indignity except this—being a damsel in distress and spirited off by the bad guys. How unromantically cliché! She struggled vainly for a grip on anything of the Nazgul; his face, his head; anything! Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Frodo still backing away, terrified. In utter rage, she spat and gripped the hood, feeling for the throat and squeezing desperately. It worked. The Nazgul dropped Adelaide so suddenly that she gave a squeak of fright. Oh, her pride needed some salve.

Then something odd happened.

Adelaide did not mean to do it. But she suddenly wondered, for a split second, of what was underneath the black robes, and suddenly she could picture it, picture HIM inside, the Nazgul, one of the fallen kings. She could see him in her mind as clear as day, and in her mind she had grabbed onto him and twisted his wrist like Chuck Norris playing Indian Rug-burn. And though all of this was happening in her head, Adelaide saw with her eyes that the Nazgul was writhing about as if in pain. What was she doing? Adelaide blinked; the spell was broken, and she decided to just sprint around and dodge the blades. There was no time left to lose. Another Nazgul was approaching Frodo, who was now scurrying on his back, away from the Wraiths. He brought out the Ring.

_Frodo, you idiot_! _What the hell are you—_

Uh-oh.

"WHOA, _SHIT_!"

"Mr. Frodo!"

"Frodo!"

The Nazgul unsheathed his dagger. He came straight for Frodo. Adelaide, seeing the situation, made a running leap and had almost landed upon the Nazgul's back, when the other two came and plucked her out of the air. She fought back, screaming and kicking, but they were incredibly strong, and not at all nice about it. Her mind clouded over, and she watched in horror as Frodo struggled within himself, and then slipped the Ring on his finger to disappear.

It was like being in a misty otherworld, where he could see the insides of others. And he could see the Nazgul, terrible to behold; with no eyes; only empty sockets, and crowns of the olden kings. Great robes of royalty they had also, but their white and burning skin was crusted, and old with who knew how many years. Their blowing, misty world was swirling with hate and terror. They knew he had the Ring. It was burning upon his finger, calling out to them, and they responded. The one with the dagger was reaching out his white and ghostly hand to take it; he was being drawn toward the hand; he had to stop it; he must…

And then he pulled away.

The Nazgul reared back as if stung, and then struck the tiny hobbit with his dagger. Frodo screamed in pain, for the dagger had gone very deep indeed. His left shoulder burned as with fire, and a thousand needles. Blood flowed, staining his clothes, and skin. Dimly he saw, through the haze, a figure with a burning brand and a sword, leaping through, and slashing at his tormentor. The pain was taken away, as the blade was withdrawn hastily. With a great effort, he took off the Ring. And there he was, laying on the ground, screaming and crying in pain. Sam saw him first, after coming to, and ran over to his master.

"Mr. Frodo!"

"Oh, Sam!" Frodo was in tears.

Yes, the figure with the burning brand was Strider, and he was now slashing furiously next at the wraiths who held Adelaide. She ducked her head to avoid getting singed, and then kicked them both in the groin, where it was supposed to hurt. Apparently, it didn't work. But the wraiths were now on fire, and they were screeching. The air was filled with wailings of pain and terror, as well as hate and rage. Strider parried the blows with his sword, driving the Nazgul back. Then he cast his glance about. He could feel another wraith approaching from behind. Suddenly, and with deadly speed and accuracy, he flung the burning brand. It impaled the wraith in the face, sending him up in flames. An agonized screech of pain and fury split the air. But the wraiths were leaving.

Everyone fled to Frodo's side. The hobbit was weeping and moaning in agony.

"Do something," pleaded Sam. "Strider, help him!" Strider picked up the blade, which disappeared in his hands, leaving only the hilt.

"He's been stabbed by a morgul blade," he said. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."

"But we're six days from Rivendell," Sam panted, as they ran through the night. "He'll never make it!"

"That's what you think," Adelaide murmured. "Tolkien didn't write that huge telephone-directory-sized book just to kill off his main character in the beginning."

* * *

They laid Frodo into a nest of ferns. Sam bent over Frodo, trying to cheer him up.

"Look, Mr. Frodo! It's Mr. Bilbo's trolls!"

Indeed, they were in the historical sight of the Hobbit's first encounter with trolls, when Gandalf had turned them into stone, as they had debated which dwarf to cook first. Adelaide didn't know whether to gaze around in awe or focus on her poor boyfriend, who lay in anguish on the ground. She took Frodo's hand. "It's gonna be okay, honey," she said, trying not to be syrupy, even though she knew she was failing at that. "Hang in there. We're doing everything that we can for you!"

Strider turned to Sam.

"Sam, are you familiar with Athelas? It's also called Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil, ah…it's a weed!"

"It may save Frodo's life. Go search for it! Adelaide, you stay with Frodo. Keep him warm, and comfortable."'

Adelaide took Frodo's head into her lap and began to rub his temples gently. His eyes were becoming a milky white, and his choking was visible.

"Is he going to die?" asked Pippin tearfully.

"He's passing to the shadow world," said Strider. "He'll soon become a wraith like them. I am going to help Sam. Stay here!"

Sam rushed off into the gloom, followed swiftly by Strider. The man looked this way and that, and finally found what he was looking for. Athelas, a plant that had special healing powers, and could possibly, as he had said, save Frodo's life. He took out his knife and began to cut. But at that moment, a long, silver sword sheen flashed against his skin, and he heard a soft voice.

"What's this? A Ranger, caught off his guard?"

* * *

Frodo was still lying in Adelaide's arms bathed in a cold sweat, and Adelaide was trying to comfort him when they both saw her. The Elven maid was garbed in purest white, shining through the night like a star. Her raven black hair was haloed by a dazzling white light, for it emanated from her entire, powerful being. Her face was smooth and soft and grave; her eyes were like the wells of deep knowledge and peaceful serenity. Leaning down, she spoke in a strange tongue that Adelaide guessed to be Elvish. Her voice was clear and beautiful, and soon Adelaide tried to catch on; the woman was trying to heal Frodo. And then there she was, leaning over him with Strider, in riding clothes and no dress, and trying to stanch the wound. Frodo choked desperately.

"He is dying. We must get him to my father," said the maiden, and Strider scooped up the hobbit.

They conversed in the Elven language for a little bit, and finally, the maiden turned and looked at Adelaide. "But they are looking for her as well," she said. "If we reach the Fords, the power of my father will protect them both. But I cannot carry two."

"What are you saying?" asked Adelaide, now dreadfully confused.

"Adelaide, do you think you could ride Bill?" asked Strider. Adelaide stared at him.

"I took horse-riding lessons in Rohan. Why?"

* * *

"Oh, damn it all," grumbled Adelaide for the hundredth time. Astride of Bill, the poor girl was not that much of a burden for the little pony, but she still felt awkward. Beside her, at a gallop, was the maiden, carrying Frodo. Adelaide sighed and urged Bill into a faster pace. Elvish horses could outrun even a sturdy pony like Bill, but she had to try her hardest. She only hoped that the others were finding their way to Rivendell faster than they were. Frodo seemed to be fading fast. In fact, a greenish yellow froth was bubbling at his mouth, and his face was so pale it looked yellow. A white veil filmed his eyes, and he could not do much save choke and gasp in rasping breaths between the heaving of his chest. It was getting difficult for him to breathe. Adelaide watched him from her saddle, and merely prayed. She knew that she couldn't do much.

Nevertheless, there was no sense in dying now, while the story was getting good.

* * *

Meanwhile, Strider had packed up the other hobbits, and all four of them were running desperately over to Rivendell, as fast as they could possibly go. Sam had protested at this, but it seemed as if they had no other choice. It wasn't that Sam didn't like running. He just worried for his master, which was understandable enough. But all three hobbits couldn't understand why Adelaide had to go as well. Strider told them that he just could not explain, save for the fact that both Frodo and Adelaide were in grave danger, even though Frodo had been the one to get wounded. For Adelaide, the danger was much much that much greater, for she possessed something that the Enemy wanted as well, greater than any Ring…

* * *

They crossed great plains, and Adelaide really didn't know where they were headed. It seemed as though they were going South still, but she was losing track of the direction as well as the time. They were galloping fast, and even Adelaide found that her Bill was managing to keep up with the other horse. Then, she heard a shriek. That shriek had not come from Frodo.

She looked back, only to see the Wraiths on their butts. They were at a gallop, and they looked mad. The Ring was not going to escape them this time! And Adelaide wondered what they wanted her for. Strider had mentioned something to that nature.

Suddenly, the maiden called out to Adelaide. "Follow me!"

They twisted and turned into a grove of trees, and it was all the creatures could do to stay on all four feet. Poor Bill wasn't used to that sort of twisting and weaving, but he was a smart animal, and so kept upon his feet. Adelaide wasn't quite used to it, but somehow she just held on for dear life and did her best. Back and forth, now to the left, dodging a tree, and now to the right, around the shrub, and still the black sons of a bitch were still on their butts! The Ford was straight ahead, as far as she could see, it was a river, running between two great mountains, which hemmed it in. Trees lined the banks, but on the other side, Adelaide knew, was the maiden, and also the valley of Rivendell, where the Elves dwelt in peace and without fear. There was power in the Ford, as far as Adelaide could remember. Elrond the Half-elven guarded it. There was good in that valley. All Adelaide had to do was get there. In a few moments, she had caught up with the maiden, who had by this time crossed the Ford, and was standing on the other side. The two young women stood together, and the Elf-girl faced her opponents fearlessly. Adelaide studied them closely, seeing them in daylight for the first time.

"Give up the halfling and the foreigner, She-elf!" they rasped. _Oh my blessed_, thought Adelaide. _They're talking to us, and I can understand every word. But that's not English. Why can I understand them if they're not speaking English?_

The maiden unsheathed a sword at her hip.

"If you want him, come and claim him!"

The Nazgul started across the ford. Adelaide turned to the Elf maiden with concern. NOW what were they going to do? Where was the famous power of the Rivendell border? But the Elven woman was looking down at the water, her lips moving in a chant, her voice sweet and clear, flowing like the waters of the river.

_It's a fucking spell. Cool!_

The water receded from the rocks, all the way down the river back into the canyon, leaving only dry, bare stones. The maiden was chanting, faster and faster-and suddenly, like a tsunami tidal wave, the water came down, crashing like thunder, out of the furious canyon, in the shape of four white horses. Neighing, pawing, and galloping down the river, they bore down on the wraiths. The wraiths had only a moment or two to look up, analyze the situation, and then try to flee. It didn't work. Before Adelaide and the maiden, the white water bore down on the wraiths, crashing upon them, and splitting them. They were scattered, their horses were drowned, and they themselves floundered about in the water, being carried swiftly towards whatever end by the powerful current.

The maiden was breathing heavily, but then Frodo slipped from her grasp, and Adelaide dismounted Bill. The Elven maiden put Frodo down on the ground, and Adelaide undid his hood, feeling very frightened. She knew that he would not die, but knowing the fact and experiencing the present reality were two different things, and she was scared. Frodo's face was pale and almost waxy, dripping with sweat, his eyes milky-white. "Frodo, no!" cried the maiden. "Don't give in! Not now!"

Practical Adelaide loosened the cloak about his neck, but she felt helpless because a poison was working inside her beloved, a poison she did not understand and could not cure. Blinded by her tears and frustrations, she sucked in lungful's of air and tried to control herself. She watched as the Elven maid gathered Frodo into her arms. "Oh, Elbereth!" she whispered. "What grace is given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared…"

* * *

So the Elves of Rivendell found them a few minutes later: both females hunched over the prostrate form of the inert young hobbit, sobbing their eyes out. No explanation was needed. The Elves quickly bore up Frodo, pulled Adelaide aboard a horse, and provided one for the Elven lady. Adelaide complacently allowed an Elf to guide her gently onto a horse, and as he steadied her with his arm, they rode together into what the Elves called Imladris, that is, Rivendell in the tongues of men.

Adelaide could not believe how beautiful the valley was. In all her dreams, she had never imagined how lovely the place was. Green were the undying trees, and sweet was the smell of the mountains and hills. Nestled there, like a gem among gems, was the great Last Homely House of carved marble and painted wood, and smooth were those roads that were trod by the Elves. Singing could be heard, and as they approached, Adelaide felt sleep overcoming her senses. It was a delightful feeling. In fact it was so lovely, Adelaide promptly fell asleep.

When she awoke, she found herself dressed in a nightgown of white, and she was lying in a comfortable bed with puffs and warm blankets. An Elf with a fair and noble face was leaning over her. When he saw that she was awake, he smiled and held out his hand to her, and she placed her palm into his. He pressed her hand warmly, his face kind and compassionate...oh, what had Tolkien written? Adelaide could only remember one description of Elrond: he was kind as summer. Strong and warm and gentle and smiling and everything else wonderful and sunny! She relaxed and felt more at ease.

"Welcome to Rivendell, little foreigner," said Master Elrond. "You have slept the noon away. Be easy! You are not harmed or wounded, and have merely slept very well."

"Oh, er…how do you do, Lord Elrond?" Adelaide reacted politely. "My name is Adelaide Edessa."

Elrond kissed her hand. "Ah, then you know me…but by sight? How is it you have not only heard of me, but seen me as well?"

"Lucky guess," Adelaide nodded. "I'm sorry if I seem rude," she added. "But you _look_ like an Elven lord."

"I shall take that as a compliment, for I don't believe anyone has ever guessed rightly merely by sight."

Adelaide yawned. "What time is it?"

"It is going on about seven o'clock in the morning," said another voice. "How do you feel?"

"You don't want to know," Adelaide groaned. "Ugh. I feel like something I ought not talk about in an Elven home." Smoke filled her nose, and suddenly she gave a start. "Hey, Gandalf!"

"Yes, it is me," said the wizard chuckling. "It's good to see you up and alive again. You were talking in your sleep, and once you threatened to go sleepwalking right out the window, but we've cured you of that. Otherwise, you've slept like a baby."

"Weird. I've never done either of those things before. What did I say?"

"Something we ought not talk about in an Elven home," Gandalf chuckled.

"So where were you?"

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"Oh, you arrived here yesterday afternoon, so you've slept for almost a full eighteen hours, or so."

"And where were you, might I ask? Strider tackled us in Bree, Frodo got stabbed on Weathertop, and I get dragged along. Where were you during the tea party?"

Gandalf was quiet for a moment. "Oh, I am sorry about that," he said. "I was delayed."

"You're a wizard. Since when do wizards get delayed?"

"Since they have their limitations. And I have a weakness for the side of good, while my superior has a weakness for that of the bad."

"I want the whole story, and I want it now."

"Now? In one sitting? That might be a little difficult to go along with, Addy."

"Come on, Gandalf. If you don't tell it to me right now, I'll spit in your milk."

"Ah. Such a threat deserves its due." Gandalf chuckled. "I thought you might want to know. Well then, child, here are the facts." He gave a vivid account of his dealing with Sauruman and his imprisonment. "And," he added. "There I was, at the top of Orthanc, cold, wet, and hungry, when suddenly a gleam of hope caught my eye. It was a moth, of whom I am well aquatinted with."

"Moths. You're a friend to moths?"

"Of course. Remember, I deal much with the creatures of Middle Earth, as does my cousin Radagast. I have learned to talk in the language of animals, and this little wise fluttering thing landed in my palm as I spoke to it. I told him to go and fetch Gwahir for me, for I was in need of some rescuing."

"You rode Gwahir back! That's the giant eagle, isn't it? Is he here? I totally want to see him!"

"He's off to his own home, my dear, but I'll let him know you're such a big fan of him. He'll be flattered, I'm sure. Anyhow, I sent the moth on its merry way then, and later, Sauruman came up to have a chat with me."

"Well, what'd he say?"

"There we fought again, on the top of Orthanc. I would not listen to his 'reason.' He had obviously gone quite mad. 'There is only one Lord of the Ring,' said I, looking up at him. The moon had risen high in the sky, like a bright star. And Sauruman's figure was outlined against it, but another figure, of hope, could also be seen. It was Gwahir. Sauruman saw him not, but I did. 'And he does not share power,' I added, meaning Sauron. With that, I turned and leaped onto the waiting back of the Eagle, and he bore me far away from that wretched place."

Adelaide stared. "So now we have to deal with a traitor wizard."

"Much more than that, I am afraid. Sauruman is creating an army, crossing men with goblins. They are terrible, I am sure. I have not seen them yet, but I saw all the work that has been done so far, and it is wicked, terribly horrible. But do not worry. Nothing is ever as impossible as you think! We shall have council over the matter of the Ring. If all goes well, you will get to go home. Now please rest, dear. And don't trouble yourself anymore."

"How's Frodo?"

"Frodo is on the mend," said Gandalf cheerfully. "You need not worry about him."

"Can I see him?"

"I think it best that you wait for a bit. He's still sleeping and healing. I know of the impatience that harangues you, but you must try and find the patience that he needs from you at the moment."

"In the meantime, my people have invited you to dine with us," Elrond said. "Will you honor us at the high table?"

Adelaide rubbed her head. "Of course. I'd love to—"

Suddenly the door opened, and in came Sam, Merry, and Pippin, with Strider right behind.

"Miss Adelaide, you're awake!"

They were so happy to have her back, safe and sound! Merry and Pippin crawled up beside her to relate the tale of their adventures on the way to Rivendell. Adelaide listened patiently, as she was prone to do, but it was all very tiring, and she zoned out on much of what the hobbits told her. Strider, who shall henceforth be known as Aragorn, smiled at her; she noted the relief in his eyes and she couldn't resist teasing him. "Were you worried about me?"

"Heaven forbid, madam. I have no need to worry about you. You have too much spirit for anyone to worry over you."

"She's in remarkable health," said Elrond, smiling. "A good meal, clean clothes, and a decent bath will cure all her temporary illness."

"Hey, I like you," Adelaide smiled sleepily. "You're my new best friend, Lord Elrond." She was falling asleep fast. Elrond bowed to her.

"We shall leave you to your rest. That, at least, is not hard to find in Rivendell, my lady. Come, Meriodoc and Peregrin. Sleep well, my lady. Good evening!"

"Mmm," said Adelaide, very tired, but very happy. Frodo was on the mend. He was going to live. She was going to live. She had her friends. And all seemed very good, especially dinner. She couldn't wait until that time; to go see some Elves, and to learn more about Rivendell.

As long as the Nazgul didn't catch her.


	16. The Rivendell Experience

Chapter 16

The Rivendell Experience

**I have a very deep apology to make to hard-core Tolkien fans who are probably laughing at me behind their computer-screens: Valinor is NOT the place where Elves go when they choose to leave Middle Earth; it's Tol Eressëa. That took me a while to figure out, so I'm darned glad I'm making all these technical and geographical adjustments. So far nobody caught it, but I'm going to do this right, anyway. **

* * *

Rivendell was more than Adelaide had ever dreamed it to be. From the moment she woke up, several hours later, she lay in bed, believing it to be pure paradise. The sun filtering in from the trees allowed for the warmest, most comfortable conditions. The Elves were courteous and sweet; Elrond was a peach, and everything was just fine—no evil could touch them there!

The Elves had provided her with clean clothes—a gown made of soft blue velvet and silver trim, with a girdle fashioned with tiny metal leaves inlaid with tiny crystals. It was honestly the most beautiful gown Adelaide had ever seen, and despite her earlier attitude towards gowns and everything uncomfortable about them, she could hardly wait to slip into her new attire. But first, a bath was in order. She had already been cleaned by the healers, but they had only made her comfortable; she poured her own hot water, closed the drapes, and enjoyed a refreshing, cleansing bath. The water was so sweet and smelled so good; she rubbed crushed petals against her skin which released the most fragrant of perfumes. Slipping the gown on, Adelaide felt like a princess. As in the Shire, Adelaide would walk barefoot. Female Elves rarely wore slippers.

Then she looked in a vertical mirror.

She wolf-whistled at herself. "Wow, how about that!" Why, she looked rather nice! The gown suited her, hanging and pinching in all the right places to show off the curves of her waist, hips, and bosom. The neck dipped down to reveal just a pinch of the attractive white skin of her breast, and the sleeves were loose and comfortable about her arms. The material was not itchy and bothersome in the least. How wonderful the gown was, and how nice she looked! She twirled a little, watching the dress rise and fall in elegant flutterings, and then she viewed herself at different angles, posing in front of the mirror as she used to when she was little. The effects amused and delighted her at once.

"Not bad…" she mused softly. "I like it. But you really do need your other clothes back, Adders. The gown is nice, and maybe I can put up with them, but I want my jean-shorts and T-shirt again, too. _'Cause I'm proud to be an American…where at least I know I'm free…"_ she broke hurriedly into song.

Adelaide wanted to explore, but was uncertain about the hours. It seemed to be the middle of the afternoon, but there was hardly any noise. In the Shire, anyone who woke up in the middle of the afternoon was subject to a lot of sound. Adelaide poked her head out the door, facing the corridor curiously. It was completely still. Too still, in fact. She stepped out into the hallway and looked around. The torches lit down the marble hall indicated that the door was shut down the way. Shrugging her shoulders, she went for it. She took the handle and pulled, when an arm shot out of the shadows and gripped her arm. Adelaide twisted, and found herself looking into the face of Aragorn. He looked a little confused, if not puzzled.

"My lady, you should not be wandering these halls," he said softly. "Come, there is nothing for you here."

Boy, he really looked out of it.

"Earth to Aragorn: this is Adelaide speaking," the girl cupped her hands around her mouth and spoke in an alien voice. "Dig the dirt out of your ears and wake up!"

The man blinked and took a good, long look at her. Then he gasped and let go of her arm with a small, nervous laugh.

"Could this possibly be the same young woman who is so stubborn about wearing her own clothing?"

"Oh, shut up. Don't I look nice?"

"You look beautiful. The gown becomes you well."

"Hmm, well, Frodo says I was born to wear a skirt and corset. I guess I've worn jeans for so long, wearing a gown makes me a whole different person. What time is it?"

"Noontime, madam. You have slept late."

"I should hope so. I need a vacation after this one! Running from the mafia is not my idea of summer holiday. So, what's the agenda?"

"Rest today and Council tomorrow."

"No way!" Adelaide was excited. "So, are they going to tell me what the hell is going on with—"

"Watch your tongue," said Aragorn sternly. "This is Rivendell, a place of serenity; it is not the Shire, nor is it Bree. And it is certainly not America, or wherever it is you come from. Please refrain from your regular speech of tongue. Now then, as to your question, you are to attend the Council, for you are already a key figure—politically speaking, that is."

"How's that?" Adelaide wondered.

"I am not supposed to tell you, and don't give me that look because you shall know nothing from me," Aragorn said sternly.

"Huh, fine. I don't want any information from you, anyway. You'd probably just feed me a bunch of pessimism."

"Now that sounds more like you. You must be feeling better!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Come," he said cheerfully. "You have escaped the foul clutches of Mordor once. In Rivendell, you have no fear of them ever finding you and harming you. Be merry, Adelaide! You shall see Frodo today, and Elrond said that you might meet the three peoples that come for the Council tomorrow. I was also to instruct you that you should dine with the Elves today. They are very curious about you."

"Excuse me? I didn't ask for their support. Where's all that coming from?"

"Your spirit," Aragorn chuckled. "I think they like it. You are a novelty for them."

"Oh, please."

"What?"

"Aragorn, give me two cents of a break. A novelty, huh? They certainly didn't find me much of a novelty before. They thought I was a deceit of the Enemy, or whatever."

"I think they have accepted the fact that you are indeed a guest in Middle Earth, and they find you fascinating. Mortal women, to them, are strange enough, but one such as yourself is truly remarkable."

"Why do I feel like I'm on Animal Planet?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, I just feel like an exotic bird, or something."

"Nay," Aragorn laughed. "But you are an exotic woman. They are warming to you well. Just take courage, don't say anything offensive, and mind your manners."

"Sure, Jenkins. What else should I know?"

"When with Elves, it is polite to accept wine," remarked Aragorn casually. "I understand that you drink it anyway, but do not down five bottles on the first round."

"HEY! What has Frodo been telling you, anyway?"

"Not Frodo. Merry. Apparently that story is quite popular with his family."

"There's a reason I had five bottles."

"As I hear it, you were prepared to make it at least eight or nine. And don't eat the way you did in Bree. Oh, yes, I saw you! You have the appetite of a horse, but you cannot gorge yourself here. And mind your manners. You are still a guest, and a feminine one. Act like a princess, for my sake."

"Huh! You're beginning to sound like my mother!"

"Well, for heaven's sake, Adelaide—"

"Nothing doing. I'm old enough to take care of myself, so don't go babying me into next week. You ought to know that about me by now, you idiot."

"And one more thing," said Aragorn.

"What's that?"

"Try not to show favor."

This sounded odd. "Why?"

Aragorn looked around to his left, then his right, and then down the hall. No one was around, and all the doors were quiet.

"Elves may get jealous," he said quietly. "And you have become so popular that if you show favor to any particular Elf, there may be trouble."

"I get your point," said Adelaide. "So I might not even want to dine altogether, because if I do, they're all gonna want to sit by me."

"There's a point," said Aragorn. "But I am afraid you will have to sit down. The Elves will crowd around, but do not show favor, or else there shall be a brawl."

"I can't see Elves in a brawl," giggled Adelaide. "That's too funny."

"Nevertheless, it is true," scolded Aragorn. "So please do not try to show favor."

"Oh, okay," said Adelaide. "I won't."

"Run along, now," Aragorn gave her a little shove out the door. "Go explore Rivendell."

"You sure you don't want to bounce me around pig-a-back?"

"Get out of here."

Adelaide ducked and ran outdoors. The day was as beautiful as if it had been the very first one ever created. The sky, so azure and peaceful, was lit up by the rainbow cast from the waterfalls, sparkling in the light of the sun. Rivendell was like a hidden jewel within the valley, a Christmas present that could be unwrapped and explored again and again without boredom. The deep valley was one of many cutting through the moors that sloped upwards to the Misty Mountains. The sides were steep, and the zigzag path that led down to the Last Homely House was almost treacherous. But once you were down the path and over the bridge that spanned the River Bruinen, you entered the House of Elrond, a great house with always a bit more to discover. There were two large halls for feasting, gardens on the east and south, a forgery, countless rooms and guest halls, a courtyard, and an enormous library for study. The whole place was like a gigantic greenhouse filled with exotic flowers, ancient statues, and music. The architecture was elegant and graceful, and the weather always perfect. It seemed old and yet so young in its fresh beauty. Adelaide wandered around a bit, and then realized that it was possible to get lost. She needed a damn—er, a blasted map. Or a guide. Or something. Anything to get a tour of Rivendell. It would be fun, and what was more, she'd get a chance to explore among the Elves and perhaps learn some speech.

A movement at her arm caught her attention, and there was a slight rustle among the trees. Adelaide turned and looked into the dense garden, but she really couldn't see anyone. Nevertheless, she walked over to where the sound had come from, and peeked into the garden.

"Hello?" she called, but there was no answer. A rustling sound came from among the trees again, but there was no wind, and Adelaide caught sight of someone rushing through the leaf and grass. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I hate candid cameras," she said as gently as possible. "But if you want to remain hidden, that's fine with me. You probably don't mean any harm. I just want you to know that I know that you're watching me."

Having said that, she turned and nearly collided with Gandalf.

"You never told me you talked to yourself," the wizard mentioned casually.

"Why should I? You never asked. Besides, I was talking to some Elf. I'm being watched. Aragorn told me I was popular."

"So you are! Speak with them, ask them questions, and hang onto their every word. Have no fear! They will accept your curiosity as a compliment. They have known of men from all different parts of Middle Earth, but your case is unique, and they are longing to know more of you."

"How is Frodo?"

"He has talked long in his sleep about many things," said Gandalf, chuckling. "I will keep the private details to myself, however, and no one need know." The old wizard smiled knowingly at her, and Adelaide turned bright red again.

"Well, I…uh, that's…thanks," she said weakly. "I didn't know he liked to talk in his sleep."

"He doesn't," said Gandalf. "He just started the habit."

"Well, he'd darn well better not _keep_ the habit!"

"I cannot promise you that," said Gandalf. "But I am thinking that perhaps this was only a thing that happened when he received that deadly wound. It may pass, and you can thank your stars."

"What'd he say?"

"O, lots."

"O-lots doesn't tell me a damn thing. Oh, I'm sorry—gosh golly, look, I don't mean to; it's a habit! What's O-lots? For cryin' out loud, what were the details? Anything about me?"

"Now why do you ask that?" Gandalf was teasing her now. "He mentioned something about your nose and the cute little way it twitches—among other things. Oh, don't look so irritated. Now, look, it's twitching. And don't blush, either."

"You're a hateful old man—you make me all self-conscious."

"And why not? You could use a little more self-consciousness in these dark times. But for now you are in a place of light and beauty, and it becomes you. I think you were happier in the Shire, though, am I right? Well, well, don't worry so much. Frodo's safe from harm, and you yourself are looking very charming and healthy this morning. Farewell for now."

When Gandalf had left, Adelaide turned around to face the bushes again, but the Elf had gone, for there was no more rustling. Adelaide continued her exploration through the grounds, finding, instead, a small group of Elves who immediately dropped what they were doing and stared at her. Adelaide shifted uncomfortably, feeling—for all her bath and nice clothes—like a dirty little mortal, the same feeling she had experienced in Lothlorien when faced for the first time with these beautiful, ethereal creatures. How noble and beautiful they were, and strong in face! And their hands…what strong, gorgeous, elegant hands! What marvelous, deep eyes of all colors and shades and emotions! And the clothes they wore; why, they seemed almost to glide instead of walk. Adelaide blushed sharply, mumbled something about "hello," and then hurried away to avoid their probing, interested gazes. Their interest in her was different than what she had known in the Shire. The novelty of having a foreigner in their midst had died off after a few years when it was clear that she was adapting to their way of life. But here, in Rivendell, she was a foreigner again, an American from a different world and time, someone new, someone they had never set eyes on before. Naturally word must have come to them through the Elven grapevine around Middle Earth—surely they had heard of her from talk and gossip in Lothlorien. Adelaide felt like a celebrity—if this was what celebrities felt like: observed and admired.

As she rounded a corner, Adelaide suddenly came to a terrace overlooking the falls that ran through the Elven realm. Sitting on a bench beside the terrace railing was the Elf woman who had rescued Frodo and Adelaide at the Ford. She was reading quietly with perfect posture, her whole being quiet and undisturbed. She looked up as Adelaide approached, for Adelaide meant to thank her. She received a beautiful, dazzling smile from the Elf, whose eyes lit up at the sight of her. Adelaide believed she had never seen another creature so beautiful as this woman with her porcelain-white skin, sparkling gray eyes, and long dark hair caught up in a net of small white gems. Her raiment was gray, and it glittered upon her when she moved, standing up to acknowledge Adelaide.

Adelaide suddenly remembered her manners, and curtseyed before her, remembering that this was Elrond's daughter.

The maiden laughed, suddenly, and raised Adelaide. "Do not bow before me," she said. "For I am one who is indebted to you for your actions. Had I known that you were with Elessar, I should have spoken sooner, but he was uncertain of our first meeting, and my father too, felt that way. But come now, for you seem comfortable with me. I shall show you Imladris, the home of my father, the lord Elrond."

"Wait a minute," said Adelaide. "That's just fine and dandy, but I think—well, how do I address you? And do you even know my name? We should exchange names, you know."

"Why, as for that," said the maiden, in some surprise. "I am Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Lord Elrond. And I know your name. Adelaide Edessa. It is a strange name for one such as yourself. But come now, since we are to be companions, we shall speak and walk together."

Well, that was quick. Adelaide hesitantly took the outstretched hand offered to her, and walked side by side with the Elven Princess.

As they strolled along, Arwen spoke to her, of the founding of Rivendell, and of the Elves that dwelt there. She spoke of every little flower and pathway, and seemed to know every detail down to the last atom of dust. Adelaide found her speech fascinating, and tried to keep up with the steady flow of Elvish words that were used. There was certainly a lot to see; fountains, great stone halls, tables, the council chamber, the bedrooms, the kitchens, the gables, and the terraces…it all had to be covered. Adelaide found herself dizzy with all the knowledge. At last, Arwen began to talk more about herself and her father, and of her father's people, and the Elves themselves. She spoke of her mother's mistreatment in the dens of the Orcs, and of her own journeys through the mountains and in the valleys. Then she spoke feelingly of her relationship with Elessar.

"Eles—you mean Aragorn?"

"Yes, of course!" Arwen looked surprised. "But how could you know this?"

"Ahh," Adelaide shifted uncomfortably. "I've heard him singing your praises," she said quickly. Well, it was half-true. A song about Luthien wasn't quite that, but it was enough. Arwen smiled.

"How noble of him."

"So, you guys are a hot item!" Adelaide was cheerful. Arwen smiled at her.

"I feel that I may share my innermost thoughts with you. For are you not a mortal woman, a human, with a great love for a simple hobbit?"

"Oh, I get it. Aragorn has been spilling the beans."

"He only told me as much as he wanted to."

Adelaide burst out laughing. This really was funny. "Oh heck," she chuckled. "I don't know how he'd know, and how much is as much as he wants. Yeah, Frodo's my guy. I love him to death. I can talk about the issues. They pop up in my culture all the time. But don't such issues arise up within Elven communities, too?"

"They are rare—those matches made outside our race."

"No, I mean—well, any sort of relationship issues. I was dubbed the 'couple counselor' last year at college because—well, since my school is so small, so many of my friends had boyfriends that they would come to me with their thoughts and wishes and burdens, so I was the shoulder to cry on. Besides, I think that women have a natural talent for giving advice in matters of the heart," she said in a professional manner. "Don't you think so? I mean, don't Elves give counsel?"

"Ah," Arwen smiled. "Oft it is said not to seek counsel of the Elves for they will give advice neither good nor bad. But we do not give our words rashly, or without intention. We place meaning in our words and our conversations. Tell me, do you come from across the sea? I have not longed in my heart to see it, for then it would mean for me the end of my life in Middle Earth—the end of my time with Aragorn. Do you not know this? Tell me of the sea and of the land you left to cross over it. Have you come from Avallone?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Avallone, the city of Tol Eressëa."

"Ah," Adelaide said weakly, feeling very uneducated and stupid. "No, I'm not from Avallone. In fact—well, I kind of—well, I—I sort of lied. I'm not actually from across the sea; I made up that story because it was all I could think of since the truth seemed a little far-fetched. Besides, it IS partly true. If Middle Earth is the Secondary World to my Primary, that would mean that Middle Earth is somewhere in my Europe, and I come from Alaska which is technically 'over the sea' from Europe. But I'm not sure where Tol Eressëa is. Never been there. What exactly is it? I know about Middle Earth, but I've never read up much on Tol Eressëa."

"It is the haven for the Elves who leave Middle Earth."

"Ah," Adelaide paused. "Sort of like a Retirement Home for Elves?"

"If it could be said that Elves 'retire.' We rest from our labors in Middle Earth."

"And all the Elves go there?"

"Almost all," Arwen said carefully.

"Oh? Who gets to stay behind? Do they draw straws, play musical chairs, or what?"

"Those who choose the life of a mortal remain behind," Arwen explained. "Such as...well, Luthien is one."

"Luthien Tinuviel?"

"You know her!" Arwen put a hand to her mouth and looked at Adelaide, half terrified, half adoring. Adelaide waved her hands and shook her head.

"No, no, no, no...I don't know her personally; I've never met her. But I know her story, and I know that she did stay behind with Beren. She was an immortal Elf, right? And he was a mortal man, and…well, daddy-dearest wouldn't let them get married unless Beren got a Silmaril as a sort of ransom. I haven't read the story in a long time, but I know a little about it."

"Why, you are like a wizard!" Arwen looked delighted. "You must tell me of yourself, and how you have come to know of my beloved's kindred, when you yourself are but an alien to this world!"

"Not as much as you think, hon," Adelaide couldn't help winking.

Arwen looked a little troubled, and then sighed. "Aragorn has yet told me only a few things, which you yourself have related to him. I am thankful that he has told me all that he has. He said you are a remarkable child."

"Well," Adelaide said weakly. "I'm not exactly a child. I'm twenty-three. And I am in no way remarkable. I've just managed to survive life by the skin of my nose. In fact, I don't see how I do it."

"Oh, but can that be true? They say you know things."

There it was again—the "you know THINGS." What exactly was that supposed to mean? Adelaide felt shy and uncomfortable. In the Shire she had been content to live her life and sleep with the love of her life without any sort of trouble. But what was all this about knowing THINGS? What precisely was she supposed to KNOW? Algebraic formulas? The Declaration of Independence? How to buy Hostess cupcakes at Wal-Mart? Adelaide felt a bit in the dark, but Arwen reached out and clasped her hand. Adelaide felt warmth and strength and power behind it—the touch of Elrond's daughter, most beautiful woman in the world since Luthien. Adelaide's gray eyes looked into Arwen's. _Why, we both have gray eyes. That must be one of the reasons why Frodo loves me—he finds Elven beauty very attractive_.

"If they have said naught to you yet, I shall not bother you with more questions," Arwen said kindly. "Forgive me. I have heard so much, and some things seemed so powerful and great that I took it into my mind that you must be Istari, or some great Elven lady."

"I'm sorry to bust that bubble. Just a little ol' mortal of twenty-three years."

"But no ordinary mortal—but we shall not speak of it, not now. Come, let us sit here and talk about other matters."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in breathless conversation. Adelaide was almost giddy from the inspirational dialogue. Her mind had not been stimulated like this for so long! Arwen spoke of the history and politics of the Elves, and of the wars and realms and great treasures and dealings between the races and the opinions that Elves carried. Her knowledge was deep and vast, like the sea itself, and she carried an almost immeasurable amount of this information in her mind and heart. Adelaide matched her not so much for information, but rather for the opinions. A Liberal Arts education certainly paid off if you were talking with Elves! Adelaide quoted many of the philosophers she had studied and gave her own opinions that were spiced not only with a broad-minded education but the life she had lived, governed by worldly politics, protective parents, and a culture that reveled in diversity and tolerance of every race and creed. By the time dinner was served, Adelaide realized that she had spent all of five hours in Socratic dialogue with an Elf. But Arwen held her back for a moment longer.

"Tell me," she said. "For I wish to know—what is in your mind when you see the Halfling?"

"What's in my—oh, er…something I ought not talk about in an Elven home."

"You wish to bear his child?"

Adelaide responded practically. "Oh, do I ever. I'd bear him a dozen kids, if he wanted."

"Then you would stay in Middle Earth…for him?"

"Of course I would." Adelaide paused a moment, and then remarked, "I don't have to ask my parents for permission."

"But would you not miss your home?"

Adelaide thought about this for a minute. She hadn't really considered what marriage to Frodo might mean—if he ever got around to asking her, which she really, really hoped he would do. She had settled in so nicely in the Shire that Alaska seemed like a dream, and her past life nothing more than the rest of her past lives in different states. Being a military brat had that advantage: adjusting to new places and faces very quickly. Adelaide usually hated being uprooted, but her ability to cope with new situations sometimes surprised even herself. She did miss things about America, but if she married Frodo…

"I suppose I would miss it," she replied. "I mean, everyone has roots. I've moved around quite a bit, and I was homesick every time for a few weeks before I had to settle down and move on with life. But I wouldn't be afraid," she added. "Home is where the heart is—I'm not sure who said that, but they were really smart, whoever they were."

"Does your heart lie in obedience to your family or love for your beloved?"

"Both, but scripture says somewhere that a man has to cut the apron strings and become one with his wife. I imagine the same thing goes for the woman. I'm not about to sit around and turn into an old maid just for my parents. They certainly didn't do it—they got married, and so did their folks, too. Why? Is…is your father giving you a rough time about…about Aragorn?"

Arwen had been "dating" Aragorn for a long time, it seemed. How they met was somewhat like Beren and Tinuviel, and both had fallen in love—hard. However, it seemed that Aragorn's path was dim, and Arwen's daddy dearest did not want her to marry a mortal because she would become mortal, and therefore die. So between nightly tete-a-tetes, Arwen had been debating about her path in life. Looked serious.

"Well," said Adelaide, after thinking quietly. "I think I get it. You want to marry the man of your dreams because he loves you and you love him, and you feel that to throw away your immortal life for him would be worth dying for. Yet you also feel that you don't want to disappoint your dad, who loves you dearly, and who probably cares for you a lot more than Aragorn. You've got to remember that meeting the parents is not always a good situation for guys, because there's usually something wrong with them. In this case, he's mortal. Now, if he were Elven, you could marry him, but he can't turn himself into an Elf, obviously. So we're stuck, basically. Tut tut. Damn, we're going to have to appoint a court lawyer. Hey, don't laugh; we could do it, you know. Can I talk to Aragorn? I mean, can I get his side of the story? He might not want to spill the beans, but I want to know what his thoughts are."

* * *

Arwen herself escorted Adelaide to dinner. Adelaide felt abashed to find herself among such high and beautiful people, but Elrond seated her in between his two sons on his left, while Arwen sat upon his right. Elladin and Elohir were the twin sons, and they were very courteous and kind to Adelaide. She stammered a little ungracefully and asked about what sort of things they did in their spare time and what interested them as far as hobbies and studies went, but they were more interested in hearing her speak about her own country. Adelaide had given a pretty thorough description of Alaska to the hobbits, and Frodo in particular knew her not only as an Alaskan but a patriotic American; she dived back into her memory and described her country—America as a whole—to the Elves, highlighting geographical features, important landmarks, historical sites, national parks, and a bit of the history on the founding of America. For all that she hated history class, Adelaide was relieved to discover that all her hard work and studies had paid off; she was able to tell her story well, and she beamed when the Elves nodded amongst themselves and regarded her with respect.

At the end of dinner, Adelaide rushed back to Frodo's room and hurried inside. He lay peacefully sleeping in his bed, Sam beside him in a chair, snoring away. Adelaide crawled up beside Frodo and stroked his curls.

"Well, honey," she said quietly. "I've got another fan club."

* * *

The next morning, Adelaide had some trouble locating where exactly breakfast was being served. Sighing, she sat down on a stone bench and put her chin into her hands. Which way to the cafeteria? Perhaps she could ask. There were lots of Elves, how could they not be informational? The first Elf that she stopped was a tall, dark-haired, almond-eyed softie, with a smooth chin and thin nose. Adelaide couldn't understand how he could wear all those heavy robes under the sun, but perhaps he was used to it. She didn't know his name, so she hailed him thus: "Hey, Elf-man, could you please give me some directions?"

She was instantly surrounded by at least five, noble-looking Elves, each desiring to make conversation. Adelaide blushed and repeated her question. It was met with a few different answers, but in the end, all five Elves escorted her to the main dining hall of Rivendell, an enormous room set with tables and a large space for dancing. The Elves made a dreadful fuss over Adelaide, wiping the chair before she sat down, giving her rose water for her hands, a white napkin for her lap, asking her what she would like to have, and whether or not they could eat with her. Adelaide felt like a bug under a microscope. Could you eat in peace with a lot of natives crowding around you? With that sort of entourage, breakfast lasted at least three hours, and Adelaide finally broke away from everyone to go search out Gandalf and ask him for developments with Frodo. Instead, she found him quietly conversing with Elrond. They stood as she approached, and she had barely opened her mouth before Gandalf explained to her that there would be people arriving for council, and if she was curious as to who was coming, she might like to seat herself by the gate where they would enter. Dwarves, Elves, and Men were to be coming, and Elrond particularly stressed upon the Elves. They were to come, he said, from Mirkwood and Lothlorien, representatives of their race. Adelaide's heart sank. Lothlorien. It had been terrifying, that whole new world, and faced with a bunch of bad-tempered Elves. _Well_, she thought. _I am going to get them before they get me. When they come, I'll be polite, but I won't be so polite that I get friendly. I'll get even with them for cutting my shoulder and slapping my face._ She winced. She was still mad, and would continue to be so, unless the Elves apologized first.

But she was thrilled to be meeting Men from Gondor, and even Dwarves. She had heard so much about dwarves, and wanted to meet them. And Men! She'd be seeing and talking with real (clean) men again, and wouldn't have to worry about being sensitive to hobbit feelings or Elven hearts, or anything like that. Hopefully, they were honorable. Maybe they could give her updated news on Rohan. She missed Eowyn very much and wanted news of her best friend.

Gandalf sent her off, then, with a small book. It told the tale of Beren and Luthien, and Adelaide was delighted to read it. It was sort of a Romeo and Juliet kind of tragedy, except that it was much more romantic. And the tale of B and T was tragically true, on all accounts. So she went away with her little book and sat down by a doorway on a stone bench, to read it. She got as far as chapter one, because in the next instant, she heard a familiar voice call out, "Oh-ho, so where's the little maid of my Bag End?"

Adelaide jumped up and and ran in the direction of the voice, stopping short at the sight of Bilbo, Frodo, Merry, Sam, and Pippin, all huddled around a beautiful fountain. Bilbo looked up as she came forward, and for some reason, the other hobbits were staring at her as if she were a dream. Frodo's eyes were calm, but they were wide, as if he'd never seen her before, and Sam looked bedazzled. Adelaide was suddenly very much aware of the gown rippling over her feet, and the soft cushion of hair about her neck and shoulders, shining like molten gold in the radiant sunlight. To Frodo, she looked as if she were an angel from heaven. He had never seen her in a gown before, although he had often sketched the vision out in his mind—but the real thing was ten times better than what his imagination could dream up.

Bilbo chuckled, breaking the ice first.

"Well, well, well, well! Look who it is! Mind yourself, lass; you'll be taken for some kind of Elven princess if you're not careful."

"Oh Bilbo, please," Adelaide begged. "Let's stash it away, okay? I'm not pretty like that."

Bilbo snorted. "Not pretty? Don't be an absolute ninny. Look at you. If I were any younger, I'd give Frodo here a run for his money."

"Nonsense," Adelaide's eyes sparkled, and she gave the hobbit a hug, kissing his head quite soundly. "You're my hero, Bilbo. You can come rock my world anytime."

Bilbo flushed with pleasure at the compliment. He looked very frail, but in one piece. He had a nice little cane, and his hair had turned the color of snow, but his eyes were still merry, and his lips were curved into a smile at the sight of his nephew's "lass."

"It's a blessing to see you alive, Miss Adelaide; we were rather worried—"

"Talk about worrying; I was going nuts for your nephew here," Adelaide nodded, grinning, at Frodo. "We all thought he was done for. Good thing Elrond was handy, and his daughter, eh, Frodo?"

"I don't remember Elrond much," said Frodo quietly. "But there was a bright light and a woman who was very beautiful. She had dark hair, and I might have mistaken her for you but for that feature. But I saw...in my dreams, I thought...you're not hurt?"

"Hurt? 'Course I'm not hurt. Oh, a few scratches here and there, but nothing to fret over. Seriously, I'm as healthy as I'll ever be."

"And the Elves are treating you fine, my dear?" Bilbo asked cheerfully.

"Heck yeah. I had dinner with them last night."

"You never showed up for breakfast," Pippin said. "Merry and Sam said that they hadn't seen you all morning, and then we—that is, we four hobbits—got worried that maybe they had sent you back! I'm so glad that they didn't!"

"Well, I peeked in on Frodo last night, but he was still catching his Z's, so I bummed out to get breakfast myself this morning. Then Gandalf gave me a book to read."

"What is it?" Bilbo peered at the cover. "Luthien and Beren, eh? Well, well, well, well! Maybe I _should_ give Frodo a run for his money, if it's a lad you're looking for, my lass!"

Adelaide laughed. "I have to admit, you are looking pretty handsome, Bilbo. Handsome as ever, and you still don't look a day over fifty."

"Oh, bosh!" the old hobbit blushed and waved his hand. "You're trying to flatter me, my dear. Well it won't work. I was just joking, of course. I'm getting to be as shriveled as a prune, and someday I'll be so old my wrinkles will deem me unidentifiable."

"As long as you can still recall the riddles you posed to Gollum in the dark, anyone will know who Bilbo Baggins is," Adelaide teased him.

"Gracious, now how on earth do you know about—oh dearie me, wait, you're the one who knows about me. Yes, you said you knew all about me. Media. And some genius named Tolkien."

"Your uncle has a photographic memory," Adelaide said to Frodo, warmly. "You're the best, Bilbo."

"Ah-ah, not from what I hear. Apparently someone else has taken my place, eh, lad?" Bilbo ruffled Frodo's hair. "This lad of mine thinks all the world of you, and I'm glad of it. I told him he couldn't possibly run that huge place all by himself. You struck me as a very practical person, and I'm simply thrilled you kept all of Bag End running smoothly. Been keeping him in line, have you? Been cheering him out of his duldrum moods, eh? Very good! He's been in need of it. Thank you heartily, lass. Well, well! We shan't keep you any longer! She has a book to read, Frodo lad, come away and let her be!"

"But Bilbo," protested Frodo. "Could I talk with her a minute? I won't be long; there's something I have to tell her."

"Nonsense! You have had her all to yourself for seventeen years; I think you can hold on for another two hours or so. Come with me, lads, and I'll show you Rivendell!"

"Bilbo, only for a moment, please!" begged Frodo. "I haven't been able to tell...I mean, it's important! And I haven't spoken to her for...it seems as if it's been years."

Merry sighed. "You'd better let him have his way, Bilbo," he said. "Frodo's been keeping all the lads in suspense for almost eight years, and we haven't had a moment's peace on this trip."

"Well, well, alright then. But only for a moment, Frodo. I shall leave you two in peace."

They left Adelaide together with Frodo, and as soon as they had gone, Frodo took up Adelaide's hand and slipped it under his shirt. Adelaide felt the roughness of a scar on the hobbit's left shoulder, near the chest. Frodo moved her hand over it, and then took it out, holding it tightly.

"Adelaide, Adelaide...I really did think you'd died. I saw you in one of my dreams...oh it was horrible, horrible!" the hobbit shuddered. "But it's alright now; you're alive. And that's what counts."

Adelaide waited patiently. Frodo smiled at her and moved closer to her. Her size was not daunting him a bit. She was just as pretty big as she was small, and that only meant there was more to love and make love to. "So what have you been up to?" he finally asked. "I haven't seen your pretty face since Weathertop. You felt my wound?" he asked suddenly. "Adelaide, I was stabbed."

"It was your own fault, hobbit-boy."

"I know," Frodo sighed, sitting beside her. "It's odd, Adelaide. I felt called…as if it were calling for me. I felt so tempted."

"So you gave into temptation."

"I couldn't help—" Frodo broke off as Adelaide gave him a funny look. "I'm sorry, Adelaide. I could have helped it. I wasn't thinking. I was so afraid."

"Well, we're all alive, so it's all good. But how are you?" she asked suddenly. "Are you feeling better?"

"I would feel better if they put your room closer to mine," Frodo grumbled. "How am I supposed to visit you when you're all the way down the hall?"

Adelaide chuckled. "Oh, go cry me a river, hobbit-boy. You were zonked. I don't ever recall you sleeping as soundly as that. Even I don't sleep that late after I'm sick."

"You do, too. Remember the five wine bottles?" he teased her. "You were out like a light for hours. But I still feel very weak. I could almost sleep again."

"Better get used to it."

"What do you mean?"

The words came to Adelaide's mind before she could stop them. _I mean that I know what will happen to you, Frodo love. I know how all of this will end, and I know what you will become at the end of all this. I know it. I know all of it. _

_Good Lord, is THAT what they mean when they say I know THINGS?_

_Good God._

_This is in depth, a depth that is totally new to me. Good Lord, I get myself into the worst of predicaments._

"Er, I just meant that we…uh, you'd better get used to feeling sleepy in the day, because I'm going to raid your room at night."

"There's nothing in there worth taking."

"There's you," Adelaide teased. "I'll come in and take you, how's that?"

"I think," Frodo said in all seriousness. "That I like the better idea of my taking you. It feels awkward when you do it…you're big."

Adelaide arched an eyebrow and let herself breathe heavily. "I know someone who's bigger."

"Ah…but not when bodily size is in question," Frodo returned, moving her hand from his chest to his groin. He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. "Nevertheless, I would like to satisfy whatever desires you have. When—"

"Holloa! Frodo lad, come on! Time's up!"

"Oh, damn it—"

Adelaide stared. "Frodo, you did not just say that."

"I did, and I mean it, too. You had better come see me tonight, or I'll bounce on you early tomorrow morning—and I know how much you hate getting up in the wee hours of the morning."


	17. NO! Not these Elves AGAIN!

Chapter 17

NO! Not These Elves AGAIN!

**Note: The lyrics in this text that Adelaide sings are from the famous aria "O Mio Babbino Caro," one of my favorites, and one that I felt was appropriate, considering the Arwen/Elrond/Aragorn issue, plus Adelaide's need for a father-figure, plus the hint of a ring. Besides, it's one of my favorite arias, and I love singing it, so therefore Adelaide must sing it herself. I don't own the lyrics. **

* * *

Adelaide sat back down with her book. But she had not read very far before she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Five or so horses were apparently coming her way; it would be a good idea to sit on up. Right as she did, six horses came through the gateway. Men were seated upon those horses, and fair men indeed did they look. Their hair was cut short at the shoulder, and all of them had beards. They wore clothing of red, blue, and gold, and a few bore swords and shields. Their leader was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with shoulder-length, golden-brown hair, and a proud face. Very fair he looked indeed, and awe was in his eyes as he beheld the great city of Imladris. His eyes roamed about for a minute or two, and then he looked down directly at Adelaide, who was trying not to be noticed, and pretending to be engrossed in her book. He dismounted and approached her. Adelaide continued to read. He stopped just in front of her and cleared his throat. Adelaide peeped up at him from overtop her book.

The man looked embarrassed.

"Fair maid," he began. "I can see that you are quite engrossed in your book, but we are strangers in Imladris, and desire direction to lord Elrond the half-Elven, so that we may know about the Council tomorrow. Could you please direct us to where he dwells?"

"Sure," Adelaide said brightly. "I mean, I have no idea where he is right now, but your best bet is his house…right over there." She pointed. "Are you guys from Rohan?"

"Nay, maid, from Minas Tirith, of Gondor," said a silver-haired man, smiling at her.

"And who are you?" asked the man, now gazing at her in suspicious eyes. "You do not talk like an Elven-maiden, nor have I heard your voice among Gondor or Rohan. But wait! Did I not speak to my father on this matter?" He turned to his comrades. "Did we not hear tell of such a maiden as could ride and hunt like a man, sing like a nightingale, and laugh as prettily as any mortal damsel?" He turned back to Adelaide. "Are you Feodral?"

"That's me!" Adelaide smiled up at the men. "Feodral. Boy, nobody's called me that for years. My real name's Adelaide, guys. Adelaide Edessa. Who told you about me?"

The men smiled, and one with dark hair patted her shoulder. "We have spoken with men from Rohan, and also with many of the men who come to Gondor," he explained. "They have said that you come from a completely different world, alien to ours, and yet akin in some way. And they say that you have the fighting spirit of a man. The Elves call you _Maegarak_."

"Oh Lord. I don't know if I want to know what that means. No, don't tell me, I really don't want to know. Yes, I'm the foreigner. I come in peace." She made the Mr. Spock hand-sign with a cheerful smile. "I was taught a little about how to fight in Rohan, but for all I know, I'm still probably about as good as the Easter Bunny with a machine-gun. So how about you guys? How's it go for names?"

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor," said the fair man who had spoken to her first. His eyes fairly glittered, as if he had found a priceless treasure. "With me are five men of noble lineage out of Gondor. We come for Council, and if you are to attend, we shall then be so bold as to ask you where it might be?"

"Ah-ha!" cried Adelaide, pleased as punch. "I just learned that today. Welcome to the club. It'll be in the courtyard, five paces from here, take a left at the big marble statue of the Elf with flowers curled in his hair, then walk about seven meters to the right, and you can't miss it."

"Thank you very much," said Boromir. "We are grateful to you indeed for your information. But surely you might come with us? For we know hardly naught of you, and we should like very much to see whether the rumors of Rohan are true."

"That all depends on what you've heard," laughed Adelaide. "But I can't come with you now. I'm going to wait for the dwarves."

"What dwarves?"

"Dwarves are supposed to be coming for Council also, I think. I want to meet them, too."

Boromir smiled at her. Adelaide grinned back. He looked very friendly and handsome! She knew about the part he played, of course, but there was no need to go yelling all over Rivendell, just because Boromir happened to show up. He made a polite gesture of farewell to her and then rode off in the direction Adelaide had pointed out. She then sat back down to her book, looking up every little while to see if she could catch a glimpse of the dwarves. She couldn't wait to meet them and see if they really looked like little men from _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_. Time passed by, and the sun soon rose again in the sky. At last, she heard the shuffle of feet along the ground, and there came about seven dwarves (would you believe it?) all armed with axes. They were stout and also sported long bushy beards. They wore chain mail and deep red tunics. Adelaide stared in wonder at these funny-looking people. She couldn't help it; they were so interesting. They were looking around them, as if they were leery about their surroundings. A few of them were mumbling in a strange tongue; it wasn't Elvish. Finally, they stopped in front of Adelaide, and stared right at her. She stared back, not the least bit intimidated.

"Who are you?" one of them addressed her. He had a long black beard. She smiled at him.

"I'm Adelaide Edessa, and I was hoping to meet you," she said politely. The dwarves all exchanged glances, and Black-Beard spoke again.

"Are you an Elf?" he asked. "Adelaide Edessa is no name for an Elvish maiden, yet my eyes could be deceived by your garb."

"I'm not an Elf," she laughed, and showed her ears. "The garb was thankfully provided by lord Elrond. My other clothes are in the wash. They could use the cleaning. Anyway, so how about names for you guys?"

"Your speech is not like a maiden's at all," said one of the dwarves. Red-Beard. "It is coarse, and very common, almost like a dwarf-woman's. You are most certainly not from any of the cities of Men, are you?"

"No," sighed Adelaide, a little annoyed. "I'm not from Middle Earth at all. I'm a stranger to these lands." She glared at him, and he bowed.

"Forgive me, maid," he said. "It was not my intention to cause you distress in any way. My tongue ran ahead of my mind. I have heard rumor myself—all of us have—of a foreigner. Are you she, perhaps? Are you _Fëarda_?"

"Good Lord!" Adelaide gasped. "I think I sprouted several new nicknames. What the heck is that one all about?"

"It means the spirit of Middle Earth. That is what we understand you to be."

"Gandalf must've made that one up," Adelaide muttered under her breath. "On purpose. Just to annoy the hell out of me." She said aloud, "Well, if you say so. My name is Adelaide. Now, how about you guys?"

"I am Gloin," said one old dwarf with a white beard. "With me is my son Gimli, and there are Kalin, Orni, Gifor, Nordi, and Lori, his son. We are all very pleased to make your acquaintance." They all bowed low, in sync, before her. Adelaide's eyes went wide.

"You're Gloin?" she gasped, and put out her hand. "You're one of the dwarves who went with Bilbo on his trip!"

"Ah, you know me, then," the silver-haired dwarf smiled and patted her hand.

"Know you! I'm thrilled to _meet_ you! I've always kind of wanted to meet dwarves before…I've heard so much of them in tales and children's stories, but I never expected to actually meet any of you! So I am really pleased to finally meet real dwarves."

"Thank you!" replied Nordi. "You are very kind. Doubtless you have heard of us from Bilbo, eh?"

"Actually, I did," remarked Adelaide. "Heard all about the dragon, and the treasure, and the like…is any of it left?"

"This," Gloin said, lifting a necklace around his throat. It was of the purest silver, inlaid with shimmering sapphires of three different hues. The dwarf placed it in Adelaide's hands and let her admire it. He seemed pleased by her attraction and eagerness. "That is not the last bit of it, but it is so far scattered and divided amongst us that it is hard to tell where it has all gone. But I would like to tell you of all of it, maiden, aye, and its forging, too, if such things interest you."

"There is no time for this," said Orni. "We would love to stay and talk with you, maiden, since we have now found you, but time presses. We are here for Council, and we would like to seek Elrond, the half-Elven. But we are strangers here, and we do not know our way about Elvish places. We do not like Elves. Our friendship has waned."

"Now, now!" said Gifor. "That was a long time ago, and perhaps thelady doesn't need to hear of it. But tell me, Adelaide, if that is what we may call you; where is Elrond? Where may we seek him?"

Adelaide handed Gloin back his necklace and pointed away to the gardens. "Take a left at the gardens there, walk about five hundred steps north, and then you'll come to a fountain. Take a right at the fountain, and then walk about three meters. Elrond's door is on the far right, two houses down. You can't miss it."

"Thank you very much," said the dwarves, in sync. Adelaide thought that was so cute. They bowed to her as they passed, but only one of them thought to kiss her hand. Adelaide smiled at him. It was Gimli. He was a funny-looking dwarf, and he looked quite red in the face as he did it. Adelaide chuckled as they departed. Dwarves were fascinating after all. It did not surprise her, though, that the friendship between the races had waned. Dwarves seemed very practical-minded, down-to-earth people who cared only for their tunnels and mining and precious gems and metals. That was their life. Elves, on the other hand, were above-the-ground people who loved the sunlight and twilight. They were clean, beautiful people. Sometimes Adelaide had a difficult time figuring out her own preference: whether she liked what the dwarves symbolized or what the Elves stood for. Elves seemed to be people of fantasy, while dwarves were real and hardy. Which was the better choice? Who would suit her better as a friend? She wasn't sure. Her practical mind enjoyed reality, but there was something desirable about the heavenly, fantasy-sort of creatures. Her mind rushed back to a conversation with Eowyn: _You may choose to believe what your senses tell you as reality, or you may choose to see it as fantasy. But to see what is real and call that the fantasy—that is foolhardy. It is what is born in our heads that is the fantasy, and it does not exist. If this were a fantasy, you would not be experiencing it. So, therefore, it must be a reality. Or perhaps both are real._

Adelaide turned back to reading her book. Her thoughts were going way too deep, and they made her head hurt. She was devoid for the moment of the cramping in her abdomen and chest, but she was not going to give over to a stupid headache.

She continued to read her book, and then realized that there were more hoofbeats. A little nervous about that, she held the book closer to her face. She did not want to really meet the Elves from Mirkwood and Lothlorien, nor did she want to even see them; perhaps they would pass her by. But so much had happened; she didn't think that they were going to pass her by. It seemed a little silly for her to be afraid, but she just was. She didn't want to see them, meet them, or hear them at all.

After a while, the hoofbeats stopped, and they sounded really close, in fact, not five feet away from where she sat. Adelaide gulped and lowered her book. Maybe a sneak peek at the Elves wouldn't hurt. There were at least eight there, all with golden hair and long robes of earthen colors. They were mounted on horses, and every single one of them was looking her way. Adelaide closed her eyes, feeling very frightened. She wished that they would just go away. But their leader, a tall Elf with a soft brown robe on, dismounted, looked about him, and then headed for Adelaide. She put the book back up to her face. Damn, she was not about to be frightened. She tried to control her shaking.

And above all, she was not going to go into a state of insanity.

The Elf addressed her, and somehow, Adelaide didn't know why, but it just seemed logical to put the book down. The voice was soft and gentle, and very light. It didn't seem to have any harm in it. Adelaide slipped the book down…

_Ho-ly SHIT_.

…and found herself looking up into the most handsome face she had ever seen. The Elf's face was perfect, strong and free of any blemish, set with soft brown eyes, a proud nose, and soft lips. His golden hair was drawn back into a braid behind his head, and his ears looked pointed and soft. Adelaide swallowed hard. She was not about to fall in love, when she was supposed to be despising these Elves. This guy was very cute, but she was not going to fall under his spell. She was dating Frodo, for God's sake. She looked up at that handsome face and crossed her arms.

"What do you want?" she asked blandly. The Elf took a step back, and then smiled. Wow. Big O. His smile was absolutely…

"Ah, you are not from Imladris, then? Your speech is not that of an Elven maiden."

"Are you kidding? Look, I'm a human being; Homo sapiens; a mortal; a girl. I don't know any Elvish, and I don't know you, so bug off."

It was probably not the right thing to do, but Adelaide was determined not to show any weakness. The handsome Elf looked astonished, but did not speak. Then one of the Elves atop a horse gave a cry, and Adelaide recognized him immediately as one of Haldir's brothers. He had seen Adelaide in Lothlorien; he apparently hadn't forgotten her. Haldir and his brother Rumil. Both of them held a grudge against her; Haldir had reddened his hand from slapping her, and Rumil had been the one to deliver the blow to Adelaide's shoulder. She stood before him now, not frightened, but almost bored.

"Good Lord," she said. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

The handsome Elf turned to Rumil and addressed him. "Rumil, you know this girl?"

"_Girl_!" Rumil nearly spat. "She is no _girl_, Prince Legolas. That is the demon of a dragon, and the Elves of Lothlorien and my brother Haldir will tell you that easily! She is no _girl_! My brother wore his hand out on her, and my blade cannot get her bloodstains out. Seventeen years have passed, but what is that to me? I should have finished you off when I first saw you," he cried suddenly to Adelaide. "No mortal walks in Lothlorien and profanes its ground, simply because you are angry! I wish by Elbereth that Lordirin's shaft had struck you down!"

"Thanks, I love you too," she snapped back. "For your information, I didn't even WANT to be there, and I thought that you all were a bunch of fruit-loops from the asylum. I mean, come on, a bunch of yellow-haired girly-men dressed like Robin Hood aren't exactly my idea of sane people."

Rumil made as if to leap off his horse in order to strangle her, but Legolas intervened.

"Peace, Rumil!" he said sharply. "In the first place, we are not obliged to hurt her, since she has done naught to us. And our law does not permit us to slay a woman. Should you then strike her down because she is not to your liking? I have heard different stories."

He came close to Adelaide, and she stood up hastily. "No, no, sit," he said invitingly. "I do not wish for you to stand in my presence. You must not heed what Rumil says. He is headstrong, and Haldir did not keep him in place when he was younger. Hail, Lady of Another Land! I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, and with me are ones whom you will eventually know better. We come from Mirkwood. Only Rumil comes from Lothlorien, and Haldir sent him. So, lady! Perhaps we shall know you better if you tell us your name!"

Adelaide was flustered to be standing so close to a hot Elf, but she was still mad, and she was not going to stand for it. "My name," she snapped. "Seems to be everywhere, in all tongues, and with a different twist every time. So quite frankly, I don't care what anybody calls me anymore, even if it is the demon of a dragon. Seems to fit the bill perfectly, and I don't really give a damn."

"Your name?" Legolas persisted sweetly. Adelaide glared at him. Ooh, this idiot was going to be HATEFUL. She marked him down on her mental list of people to hate for the rest of her life—he fell just below Adelard and a girl from junior-high who had made fun of her for a whole damned year.

"Adelaide," she replied. "And that's all you need to know. Nice to meet you. Now have a nice day." She said it as if she were bored. She really wished that the Elves would go away.

"We come for Council," said another. "Do you know where it is to be?"

"Courtyard," said Adelaide. "I think the Men are already there, but you can check if you want."

The Elves all rode from her, Rumil parting and giving her a nasty look, but the one called Legolas stayed, and motioned for Adelaide to sit. She shook her head. "I don't want to," she snapped. "I like to stand."

"If it suits you," Legolas said, and picked up her book. "What is this that you are reading?"

Adelaide put out her hand. "Beren and Tinuviel, elf-boy, and you can stuff that information in your back pocket."

"Do you find it interesting?" Legolas gave no indication that he had ever been insulted. It would be a habit that would annoy Adelaide until no end.

"It's okay. Give it back."

Legolas held onto the book firmly, looking at her with amusement. "I'm sorry you don't like it."

"I never said that."

"But your attitude says something completely different. I am sorry you feel that way. The tale is well-known among both Elves and men, and it is a beautiful story. One interwoven with adventure, love, trust, and wisdom." Legolas looked her in the eye. "Find you an interest at all in those things, lady?"

"Sure, if the tale is told right." Adelaide looked off to the side. "I mean, adventure is cool and all that, but love and trust are two things that I can comprehend all too easily, and I'd rather take the time to study the part about wisdom. Because after all, you need wisdom to understand those other things. Can I have the damn book back, already?"

"Do you?" Legolas had no intention of giving the book back. "I was not aware that one needed deep wisdom to understand love."

"No, not—oh my gosh! You don't get it, do you? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand love. But it takes wisdom to probe it. To be patient. To—you know! All that stuff that goes along with love! You can't be blind in a relationship! You have to steer with both eyes open and a clear mind! You have to think carefully and make wise decisions! Now give me back the book!"

"You believe so?" Legolas' eyes searched hers for a minute, and then he shrugged. "Say what you think, then. I find no harm in personal opinions. But if you had a taste of love, lady, you would think differently."

"You think I would?"

"Inevitably. True love _is_ blind, lady, and it promises things that seem foolish to those who have never had a connection with something so binding and powerful. Have you never had something you would die for? Something worth giving up everything for that one's sake is indeed a priceless treasure, would you not agree?"

"Yes, I would, and it just so happens that he's alive and in Rivendell at the moment, so give me back my book and stop being a fucking pest."

Legolas held out the book, and Adelaide grabbed it. Quickly, the Elf pulled her to him in one fluid movement.

"You don't seem to understand, lady, that it takes no certain amount of effort to mind one's manners. The fault of too free a tongue once landed you into trouble with my kin in Lothlorien."

Adelaide's eyes burned, but she did not let go of the book. "It was their fault!"

"I will not say whose fault it was, my lady. But you had no cause to say such rude things to them at the time, for they offered every bit of hospitality to you."

Adelaide's face contorted. "They _shot_ at me and then treated me like I was a rabid _dog_!"

"They tried to understand you, in their own fashion. You put up a wall of ice. I can feel it even now. Is that how you treat all the people you dislike?"

"And so what if it is?" she snapped. "Why do you care, anyway? You're just an Elf. I'm a mortal. We haven't got anything to do with each other. Just leave me alone, I'll leave you alone, and we're all hunky-dory, okay?"

"And if we should not? We are taken with you."

"I really don't care."

"You should. You are loved among _us_, at any rate, maiden. I do not know why you speak so gloomily."

She turned on him. "Loved? Oh, that's a good one. Listen, the day I'm loved by Elves is the day I die, literally. Curious? Give Rumil—or whatever his name was—a thorough investigation. He'll tell you quite a bit. So there!"

"He already has, and I believe him. But lady, there is something fascinating about you which attracts me greatly. Could I ever hate one such as yourself? You are the foreigner, a mortal woman of great knowledge and strength of character. You know Lindir, do you not? He spoke favorably of you. There are many of my kindred who have longed to meet you and see for ourselves whether the rumors hold true. We must talk again sometime."

"No, I don't think so."

Legolas sat down and stared at her with wonder in his eyes. "Will I see you again?"

"I don't know. Why should you care?"

"I should like to talk with you again."

Adelaide glared at him. "Despite the fact that I just told you to quit talking to me?"

"Did you say that?" Legolas' lips spread in a small smile. "I believe it was you who ignited the conversation."

"Ignited the...!"

Damn. The Elf was teasing her! Ooh, he WAS going to be absolutely HATEFUL! Adelaide's mind boiled furiously.

_I wish something would just fall on your head, you insolent motherfucker!_

And then she did something totally uncalled for.

The roofing overhead was lined with tiles, as you saw upon the houses in Spain. They were both directly underneath these tiles, and at the stressed-out fractures of her mind, the tiles shook, and two of them came crashing down, nearly missing the Elf. Adelaide got up swiftly and walked away before her mind did any more damage. She couldn't stand looking into those eyes of a someone who had never harmed her; she hated talking dirt to someone so handsome and so daringly provocative. She wished that he might leave her alone, but that was not to be.

* * *

Meanwhile, Frodo had wandered over to where Sam sat packing his bags and muttering to himself. Frodo had been up in Bilbo's room for a good deal of the time, for Bilbo had finished his book at last and had proudly showed it to his cousin, who flipped through it eagerly and then came upon a picture of the Shire. His heart longed for it, though he was surrounded by a good deal of Elven beauty. Frodo was like a child who looked and looked and could never have enough of the wonderment about him, but his heart was in his home, and home was in the Shire. He had not yet had a chance to ask Adelaide for her hand in marriage, but he hoped with all his heart that as soon as his trip was over, he would return home with her and make her his wife-if she was willing.

He smiled at Sam. "Packed already?"

"There's no harm in bein' prepared."

"I thought you wanted to see the Elves, Sam."

"I did!"

"More than anything!"

"I do!" Sam approached Frodo hesitantly, his fond gardener's heart twisting with the same pain that ached Frodo's. "It's just...we did what Gandalf wanted, didn't we? We got the Ring this far to Rivendell, and I thought...well, seeing as how you're on the mend, we'd be off again soon. Off home."

"You're right, Sam," Frodo smiled. "We did what we set out to do. The Ring will be safe in Rivendell...and I AM ready to go home."

* * *

Elrond and Gandalf stood on the balcony inside of the Lord Elf's home. The two had been watching Frodo and Adelaide and then Gandalf had mentioned casually how much the girl meant to the hobbit. Elrond had smiled faintly, for he was a man—or an Elf, or at least a Half-Elven, whichever—of wisdom and perceptiveness, and he could read the minds and hearts of many. And certain couples were like open kids' books with colored pictures to boot.

"How old did she say she was?"

"Twenty-three. Old enough to drink, apparently."

"I see. Still, she's very young. It's a marvel for my people to behold so young a person again. I must confess, however, that I am disappointed in you. You might have brought her here to me."

"I think the Shire was just what she needed. After all, I can't imagine that coming abruptly into a new world without any sort of warning is very pleasant. And you know well that the Elves of Lothlorien were very harsh towards her. And then, to be driven away from Rohan…no, I think the Shire was very good for her. She needed to settle for a bit, and collect her thoughts and feelings. I think she's finally accepted her situation for the present. I almost envy Frodo. He loves her to distraction."

"That's an understatement. The hobbit adores her, and the love certainly isn't one-sided. They are both attracted and very fond of each other."

Gandalf smiled, almost proud of himself. "I saw the interest at the very beginning. Adelaide was caught, hook, line, and sinker, and Frodo needed that little spark of excitement in his life. They balance each other well. From what I've heard and seen, they're well on their way to a very happy existence together."

"Yet they cannot possibly wed the girl."

"Oh? Why may he not?"

"He's a hobbit. She's a human. He is of Middle Earth. Adelaide is of another world. The marriage could not possibly work."

"I wonder." Gandalf looked out of the window and observed Frodo, who was conversing with Sam. "Indeed, it is strange, is it not? A hobbit and a human girl, falling in love. But then, perhaps it was meant to be. After all, Adelaide must have been sent here for a reason. If not for our sake, then certainly for her own. I wonder if she may have anything to do with…" Gandalf trailed off, and Elrond snorted.

"Only time will tell that. Such tests are not reserved for the faint of heart."

"I do not think this girl is faint of heart."

"Then we will have to see. But it isn't just on her side that the test lies. It will also be on Frodo's side. And he is very weak right now, despite the fact that his strength returns."

"The wound will never fully heal, Elrond. He will carry it all his life."

"Nevertheless, the hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil!"

"It is a burden that he should never have had to bear. We can ask no more of Frodo."

"Gandalf!" Elrond's voice was stern, and he looked seriously at the wizard. "The Enemy is moving. Sauron's forces are massing in the East; His Eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Sauruman, you tell me, has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin."

"His treachery runs deeper than you think," said Gandalf. "By foulcraft Sauruman has crossed Orcs with goblin men; he's breeding an army in the caverns of Isenguard. It is an army that can move in sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Sauruman is coming for the Ring. On top of this, he knows of Adelaide. She has a deeper part in this drama than she will ever have in her whole life. She knows of our End; she knows this story, nearly by heart, although being here in Middle Earth has somewhat muddled her mindset. She is resistant to the Ring; she is able to withstand its draw. Yet Frodo knows this, as do I: if she so much as touches that thing, Sauron will see her. Sauruman is looking for her as well as He, and here we have two forces that are looking for this one innocent child who does not know her strength. She is strong, yes, and it shows more than you know. But were she to be tortured, I don't know how much they would get out of her. She knows information, Elrond. Too much, in fact, for her to be only a bystander in all of this."

"This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves! We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isenguard, while trying to protect the young lady at the same time!"

"That is why I would advise you to leave her to me. I know where the Havens are. I think, were she to set sail over them, she would be able to go home. But I have not fully researched her problem."

"And the Ring? Gandalf, it cannot stay here. This peril belongs to all of Middle Earth. They must decide now how to end it. The time of Elves is over; my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The dwarves? They hide in their mines, seeking riches; they care nothing for the troubles of others."

"It is in Men, then, that we must place our hope."

"Men?" Elrond nearly spat the word, as if it pained him. "Men are weak. The race of men is failing, Gandalf. The blood of Numenor is all but spent; its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of men that the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf." Elrond closed his eyes, remembering that bloody battle. "I was there three thousand years ago when Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of men failed. It should've ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure. He kept the Ring. The line of the kings is broken. There's no strength left in the world of men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."

Gandalf cleared his throat. "There is one who could unite them. One who could reclaim the throne of Gondor."

Elrond closed his eyes. "No. He strayed from that path a long time ago."

They were talking, of course, about Aragorn, who you shall eventually come to know better, but I might as well spill the beans now: Aragorn was the long-lost heir to the throne of Gondor, a city worth three days ride from Rohan, not far from where Adelaide had been living. In fact, Gondor was much spoken of, so Adelaide had known a lot about it, and that's how she came to know Aragorn as the heir. He was Isildur's heir. Long ago, however, he had been brought to live in Rivendell, where he had fallen in love with Arwen. He was now 87 years of age (and still looking remarkably hot, don't you think?). But that did not mask the fact that he was an able warrior, and a kingly man. However, he strayed from his inheritance, becoming a Ranger of the North, in order to bring and maintain peace within that region. If you want to learn more about him, read the _Lord of the Rings_, by J.R.R. Tolkien. Great story.

* * *

Later on, after luncheon Adelaide found Frodo and the hobbits, and together they went and talked together. Frodo was so happy to have Adelaide back that he didn't think much of anything else; he heeded little else but her beauty, basking in it, thriving in it as if it were sunlight, food and drink to him. As for her, she was laughing, frivolous, and quite unexplainable. She seemed so happy that there was no sense in putting her down in any way. She gave no more thought to the Elves or the situation that she had faced.

But later, she was besieged by Elves who wanted her to sit with them at dinner. She could not get away from them, and they finally managed to get her to sit with them. The table was very long and held many Elves, but of all the Elves to sit across from, she ended up across from Legolas. The Elf was sitting directly across from her, and his face was not smiling, but it was curious, and Adelaide suddenly wished that she could get away.

_Should've dropped the bricks harder and with more accuracy. Huh, what am I saying? I didn't do that. Nonsense. There's nothing psychic about me. That's a bunch of bullshit. Still, if I DID do it, I didn't do it hard enough!_

An Elf started to talk to her, and she spoke back to him, and decided to ignore Legolas. But he was watching her. He watched every little move she made, every little muscle that she moved. He seemed to like watching her, although Adelaide was not enjoying it one bit. Getting mad, she finally turned from the Elf and turned on him.

"What are _you_ staring at?" she asked brutally.

"Nothing," Legolas said simply. "I am merely drifting off into another place."

_Great, a dreamer_. Adelaide turned her back on him again. But when she was leaving with the other Elves, he caught her hand. She jerked back; he did not let go.

"We did not part formally today," he said. "Indeed, it was a rather curious parting. Permit me to take my leave of you with pleasure," he took up her hand and kissed it. Shivers shot through Adelaide's body, but she jerked her hand away and nearly struck Legolas across the face when she realized that there were people about. Not a good idea to start a fight. And certainly not a good idea to use her mind. She calmed herself down, lowered her hand and wiped it off.

"Yeah, well, the next time you want to complain, don't slobber all over my hand; just tell me the etiquette."

Legolas smiled at her. "I must tell you, then, maid...it is etiquette to bow."

"Oh is it? Well, fat chance in this low-cut dress, Don Juan." Adelaide turned on her heel and walked away from him. She went straight back to her own rooms, and didn't even heed Frodo's cry of delight. She was so upset, that she felt that she was going to cry, and cry she did. Flinging herself onto the bed, she burst into a flood of tears. Her chest suddenly felt compressed and tight, and something bubbled up to her lips. She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, not even bothering to look at it. She felt afraid and alone and confused all at once. She only stopped when she felt a little hand on her shoulder, and there was Frodo, looking at her with sorrow in his large blue eyes. Adelaide threw herself into his arms and melted into his embrace. Frodo stroked her hair and murmured softly to her, trying to calm her down, not knowing quite what had made her so upset. But something had, and it was his duty to calm her. Looking at her, he noticed that she seemed a little pale…and were her cheekbones thinner? She had all but lost the rosy color of her cheeks. He stroked her hair. One would have thought the air here would have done something for her. And she had been so happy!

"Adelaide, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me 'nothing,' lass; I'm your boyfriend."

"I just needed a good cry. You know how it is."

"Tired?"

"Uh-huh."

"My poor Adelaide!" Frodo caught her face between his hands and kissed her lingeringly on the lips, tasting salt-tears and feeling the warmth of her bosom beneath him. "It's been a lot for you to bear, ever since you came here. Seems like you can't get a moment's peace. But I hope you're not too tired for a little performance tonight, Adelaide."

"What are you talking about?"

Frodo sighed. "Bilbo started it. He went around telling everyone about how great your voice is and how happy you'd be to sing for the Elves. He practically bored holes in Gandalf's head," he added, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Adelaide. I'll tell him that you're too tired to sing…"

"Since when am I ever too tired to sing?" asked Adelaide, getting better immediately. "I'll do it. When does Bilbo want me to do this?"

"Actually, he sent me to find you," said Frodo. "He's going to give a poem, and then he wants you to sing."

Adelaide groaned. "Oh, all right. I suppose I can put up with it."

"Of course you can," Frodo kissed her nose. "I know my Adelaide. She's stronger than anyone else I know of. And twice as pretty." He suddenly leaned forward and kissed her brow, feeling the ache of desire warm and pain him. Adelaide melted under his touch.

"You always know what a girl wants, you sexy thing," she growled playfully, nipping his ear. Frodo chuckled and stroked her chin.

"That's because I know my Adelaide. There now. Do you feel better?"

"I think so," replied Adelaide. "Let's go, then."

"Not quite yet. Bilbo's poem is rather long, and he won't start it for another hour or so. You have time."

"Jolly good. In that case, I do believe that I will take a walk. I'd like to perhaps find Strider and talk with him about a few things."

"What sort of things?"

Adelaide turned to regard him. Frodo was aptly curious, but if Adelaide knew him at all, she knew that he was easily jealous of any other male who might threaten to unseat him from the exalted place of her boyfriend. He needn't have worried; Adelaide was so deeply in love with him and had already given him so much that she would never even THINK about another guy coming into her life. But she saw Frodo's point of view; she was going to talk to Strider, a man—one of her own race, and a handsome man at that. Frodo had not seen the exchange between Aragorn and Arwen; the hobbit had been deathly ill at the time. So Adelaide smoothed over the situation the best she could: "Well, I happened to meet Strider's girlfriend today, and she wants me to be her counselor. So I have to go interrogate Strider."

"Oh," Frodo looked visibly relieved, and Adelaide patted herself on the back; for good measure, she knelt down again and kissed him long and lingeringly on the lips before grabbing the front of his pants. Frodo gasped sharply.

"Lass, don't DO that!"

"You know you like it."

"Well, I DO, but I don't want to walk around with…with a bulge in my pants for the rest of the evening."

"I think you walk around with one whether I grab you or not," she teased with a wink. "I promised I'd be in your bed tonight, didn't I? You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do. It's just that…well, sometimes I don't trust the others. You know…I sometimes fear to lose you," he said, stroking her face. Oh, the world was all sunny and syrupy and happy! Adelaide fairly glowed with the pleasure of being wanted and needed by someone she loved and who loved her in return.

"You won't lose me. I promise."

* * *

Aragorn was quietly reading his book in a corner of a large room. He liked to read there in that room. It gave him a sense of who he truly was, and reminded him of the past. He wanted to remember it, so that he could not forget it. And reading quietly was the best way for him to have some peace and quiet.

It was something about males in general…they liked peace and quiet.

Suddenly, he heard a little sound, and he looked up from his book, ready to greet the newcomer. In strode Adelaide, looking slightly ruffled, and a bit tired. She glanced about the moon-lit room, and then her eyes fell upon him.

"Oh," she smiled. "There you are!"

"Were you looking for me?"

"Yep."

"For once you've found what you were looking for!"

"You're going to tease me about getting lost for-absolutely-ever, aren't you?"

"Of course. Only by teasing you do I get to see your pretty little nose twitch, and you are charming when you are in a temper."

"You are just saying that to get on my nerves, so I'll just ignore you."

"Oh, you have difficulty ignoring anyone, madam. You are so curious and excited that you cannot and will not ignore anyone. Well, what is it?"

Adelaide walked about the little room, lighted with a strange blue light and garbed with gauzy drapes that blew gently in the breeze. "I just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"I dunno. Anything, really. I'm bored, and it's been forever since I've had human contact." She crossed over casually. Where a window cast moonlight upon the ground, there was a statue of an Elven woman, and in her hands, outstretched, there was a large platter. Upon this platter was draped a blue silk cloth, and the shards of a sword lay upon it. Adelaide walked about carefully, while Aragorn watched her with interest as to see what she would do. She walked over to the statue and peeped over the rim of the platter to behold the shards of the sword. She cocked her head.

"How come the statue is holding the shards of a sword?" she asked Aragorn.

"That is Narsil."

"What is? The statue?"

"The blade that was broken."

Adelaide's eyes went wide. "Oh! It's a beautiful sword, Aragorn. And it was Isildur's?"

"His father's, Elendil's, before he was slain by Sauron. Then Isildur took the sword for himself and cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. He destroyed Sauron that day."

"Fabulous. I knew that."

"Then why on earth are you asking such questions?"

"I dunno. I'm dumb. I try to make conversation because you're so damned awkward."

"I, awkward?"

"Yeah, you, awkward. You're, like, completely just sitting there and, like, not even trying to talk, so I'm guessing you don't want to talk or something—"

"Nonsense. I enjoy talking to you."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather play horsey?"

"You are going to tease me about that forever now, aren't you?"

"I can't help it. A grown man like you, enjoying a kid's game. I think you're funny. And we do get on, you know. You're a marvelous friend. The last time I had any sort of human contact was in Rohan, with Eowyn."

"Who is she?"

Adelaide smiled, lost in thought. "My best friend. Her uncle is King Theoden of Rohan, and her brother is, like, the coolest knight on the face of the planet. He rocks. But Eowyn taught me how to use a sword properly. Eomer was the dickhead about it. I'm all, like, 'Yeah, I've got this,' and he's like, 'Okay, well let's see if you can actually hit the target today.' I mean, come on. I was new. Give me a break, huh? But he taught me a lot, too. And Eowyn just…aw, man, she rocked my world. We were, like, the invincible duo. Theoden used to say that we were the reason for his gray hair, but actually, I think we put some youth back into his life. It was when he saw all the girls having a pillow-fight that he told me I could stay as long as I wanted."

Aragorn smiled. Adelaide was opening up in one of her rare moments, and to see her so charged and alive was actually very becoming. The girl hopped around to stand beside him.

"Whatcha readin'?"

"Your book on Beren and Tinuviel. You left it on the bench this afternoon."

"Oh. I never did finish it. Any good?"

"Of course."

"Oh yeah…you would think so." Adelaide winked at him. "You're the Beren type."

"Am I?"

"You're the one who oughta know, right?" She winked at him and walked over to a great painting on the opposite wall. A man was holding a gleaming sword up in the midst of battle, and towering above him was the ominous dark and sinister, towering form of the Dark Lord Sauron. Isildur looked pretty puny compared to him, but in his eyes there was a light and lust for battle, and a noble spirit that just seemed to cry out from the canvas. Adelaide reached up and touched the canvas.

"Whoa, that was weird."

"What?"

"For a minute, I thought that was real. Did you say something?"

"No. Did you hear something?"

Adelaide shrugged. "Probably my imagination going into overdrive. It does that. So tell me, Aragorn, how could merely a shard of metal defeat Sauron?"

"It was not merely a 'shard of metal' but the nobility of the deed," said Aragorn. "And the love which Isildur bore for his father."

"I think that's pretty cool." Adelaide came and sat down next to Aragorn. "I like the way people around here actually have families. The bonds between people are amazing. We don't have that kind of thing in America."

"Oh? Do you not?"

"My family is spread out between the states. I have an uncle in Montana, several cousins in Ohio, the majority of relatives in Nebraska, and my own family is way up north in Alaska. And I go to college in New Hampshire, and my dad is a pilot, so he travels everywhere for weeks and months. I get to spend very little time with him." Adelaide smiled. "I was always close to my dad. He and I have a lot of the same gene characteristics, and we get along well enough. But that's the only way I understand him. I never spent much time around him. Dad was always off flying his planes. He never stayed around home for very long. It was mum who raised me and my siblings. Right now, even, dad's off in some foreign country, and I never hear from him. Neither does mum."

"Your father must be a busy man."

"He's busy only because his job is the only one he knows how to do," Adelaide chuckled. "If he'd half a mind, he could push himself and expand his vantage points. But I've got my mum's drive and motivation; my dad has none of that. One thing is his passion, and that's all he'll stick to. And that's flying. So, in a way, I never grew up with him the way I did with mum."

She seemed so cool and collected. How could she be so? Aragorn watched her. He could not possibly know that most Americans—particularly Adelaide's generation—were quite used to growing up without the influence of one or both parents. Adelaide had accepted that her parents were not always going to be there for her, and she—as usual—adjusted her life to that fact. Still, there were the memories of having to say good-bye to her daddy when she was little, waving him off at the airport and then sitting silently in the car listening to her mother cry. Adelaide remembered those moments vividly, although they did not move her to any emotion anymore. She sometimes worried about losing her parents, and the scenes she created in her own mind brought tears to her eyes, but just as quickly they were pushed aside for the more sensible view of optimism. For Aragorn, however, Adelaide's situation was not unheard-of. He did not know what a pilot was, but he guessed that perhaps it was like being a soldier in an army—the military life was so uncertain. Adelaide lived on the edge of uncertainty, and yet still held her head up with confidence. He admired her. And if he'd had a hat, he would have taken it off to her.

"Many in Middle Earth share your grief. It is similar. And therefore we share a link between worlds."

"Of course we do. You and I, we're both human, aren't we? Similar emotions, similar pasts, similar memories, I'd guess."

"Except you were not raised by Elves."

"Hmm, well, I understand that men have a nasty reputation with Elves."

Aragorn looked embarrassed. "Well, men have not exactly made a good reputation for themselves to be known by. Take Isildur for instance. His actions have rendered him famous, but not very well-beloved."

"Who cares? He didn't ask for the Ring, did he? Fate kind of thrust it on him, and his choices were not exactly his own, because they were predestined anyway. Have you ever felt proud of what your ancestor did?"

"Take the Ring? Forestall the fate of Middle Earth?"

"Pessimistic people—"

"—never won the Olympics, I know."

"But aren't you proud that Isildur at least destroyed Sauron and gained Middle Earth some happy years? I mean, over two-thousand years passed before the finding of the Ring by Gollum, and even then it wasn't heard of for 500 years more. Then Bilbo took it, and it remained a secret with him for about 61 years. And then Frodo had it for another 17! Come on, that's…that's…I can't do the math in my head, but it's at least 2,600-something years that Isildur gained for you. You probably wouldn't have been born if it hadn't been for Isildur."

Aragorn laughed. "I suppose I ought to be grateful, in a way," he said. "Yet do you not think that many more could have been spared if he had only destroyed it?"

"Probably. But he was faced with a choice, and he just chose the lesser of two goods. I mean, if you think about it, the Ring is good in its beauty—Isildur didn't contemplate its evil, 'cause that's like…I mean, who sits down and thinks out 'Okay, so this is an evil ring because of this, this, and this, and so on and so forth,'? Isildur's not intrinsically evil, or anything like that. He's a pretty cool guy after all, and not all men are wicked. There are some nice traits about all guys, no matter how dirty you all get," she cooed. "Dude, take a look at yourself. You're, like, King of the Ultimate B.O. right now. Men still haven't invented Old Spice yet. Don't worry; they'll get around to it. You're a very rascally man."

"I think you like me as a rascal. You haven't known enough rascals in your life, and I'm rather exciting to you, aren't I?"

"Don't be so damned arrogant."

"I look foul and feel fair?"

"Something to that extent. You do need a shower, and your hair could probably stand some shampoo…"

"I've already bathed today. Is it that bad?"

"Hmm! No, it's not, I guess...lemme feel your head. Oh yuck! It's still greasy! Now I'm going to have to go wash my hands! Good-bye, Ranger-man."

Aragorn looked down at his book. "Did you meet the others today?"

Adelaide stopped halfway to the door. "Others?"

"Dwarves. Men. Elves."

"Um…yeah, I met them."

"What did you think?"

"Dude, the dwarves rock my world. I can't wait to get to know a few of them better. And Gloin was there! I have to get an account from him about the long ago adventure…the first tale Tolkien ever wrote concerning hobbits."

"And the men?"

"They were alright. They were polite. There's one guy who was pretty handsome. If I didn't have a boyfriend already, I'd totally love to date him. I forgot his name already."

"What did you think of the Elves?"

Adelaide looked at the floor. "The Elves were okay," she said. Aragorn watched her face. "The Elves were nice."

"Have you come to a conclusion about them?"

"Yes, their love of sunlight and twilight is contagious," said Adelaide merrily. "And I could spend all night dancing with them. Drat our mortal weariness! And drat the hours of bedtime. When I was young, I loved to defy the laws of time and stay up 'til all sorts of odd hours. Especially at Christmas."

But before she could speak out more, there came a noise from the other passageway, and a shadow of large girth filtered past them in the wall. Adelaide shut her mouth and quickly slipped away behind Aragorn into the shadows behind—just in case it was Legolas. But it wasn't. It was Boromir, the golden-haired man Adelaide had met earlier. He apparently didn't notice Aragorn at first as he walked into the room and looked around in awe. But then he turned only slightly, and there was Aragorn, still and silent, his eyes alone moving.

"You are no Elf!" said Boromir in surprise. "Who are you?"

"I am a friend of Gandalf the Gray," replied Aragorn softly. "I come for council."

"We're here on common purpose…friend."

Boromir gave a slight smile, or was that apparent envy in the man's uneasy stare? Adelaide couldn't tell, and she didn't want to bounce out right away. She watched as Boromir curiously surveyed the room. His eyes alighted upon the statue of the Elven woman and what she bore. He gasped and strode over.

"The shards of Narsil!" he gasped, and picked up the hilt. In his hands, the blade that was broken actually looked rather small and untidy; it did not fit his stature at all. But Boromir apparently did not notice this, nor Aragorn's reproving glare as he held the shard in front of him as if reliving the past of Isildur. "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand!" he whispered, and a smile cut across his features. His bare fingers moved up carefully along the blade and ended at the tip. A sudden movement from trembling caused him to accidentally cut himself, and a trickle of blood ran down his finger.

"It's still sharp!" he mused, and then turned. Aragorn was still looking at him, with a well-what-did-you-expect kind of look. A change crossed Boromir's features. Adelaide, a bit frightened, scrunched back even more. Boromir actually looked like a child who has cut himself on his big brother's knife…and he is angry because he cannot have it…and he knows it in his heart. Boromir's proud head drooped slightly, his eyes narrowed, and Narsil's hilt clattered to the floor. No respect!

"No more than a broken heirloom," spat the man and walked from the room. Aragorn closed his book and picked up Narsil. Adelaide stepped out.

"That's the hot guy I'd like to date," she informed Aragorn.

"His name is Boromir, the son of Denethor."

"No way!"

"You seem to know him especially."

"Don't ask me why. I'll blab. Tell me about him."

"Denethor is a proud man...as are his sons. The younger, I think, is more of a humble man, but Boromir has all his father's spirit. I know Denethor from of old...although we have never met."

"So what about—" Adelaide suddenly fell silent. A figure stood in the doorway. Arwen. Well, let the romance begin! Adelaide said goodbye softly, not even caring as to whether or not Aragorn heard her…and then she silently slipped from the room.

* * *

Frodo caught her in the passageway, and all else ceased to run in Adelaide's mind as the hobbit kissed her hand and pulled her along. They walked out of the room together, and there Pippin, Merry, and Sam joined them. They went outside, where Bilbo stood atop a small little platform. To the background music of harps and flutes, he was reciting the poem of Beren One-Hand, and the Green Stone. It was a very long poem, and Adelaide almost fell asleep listening to it. The stars were out, as well as the moon, and the velvet blue sky seemed to sparkle with the diamonds and pearl. A large crowd of hushed Elves sat or stood before Bilbo, and every one of them were listening attentively. It seemed as though they were almost bored, and might have been sleeping (Elves sometimes slept with open eyes). At last, Bilbo finished, and there was applause.

"Now we had better have it again," said an Elf.

"I am flattered, Lindir," said Bilbo. "But it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

"Not too tiring for you," laughed the Elves. "You know you are never tired of reciting your own verses."

"I suppose," said Bilbo. "But I wanted you to hear something else."

"Another poem?" called an Elf.

"Certainly not, Fof," snorted Bilbo. "Unless you could call it that; actually, it's a song."

"A song, a song!" cried the Elves. "Now, we had better be prepared for something nice."

"Now, now!" said Bilbo. "She's come a long way, and I think you'll like her voice."

"Is that our little songbird?" called an Elf of Rivendell. "She was singing in her room, early this morning. Have you let her out of the cage for a bit?"

Bilbo chuckled. "That was her choice, O Elves," he said politely. "She decided to come on her own accord."

"But to sing publicly was your doing, we'll wager," laughed the Elves, as Bilbo took Adelaide's hand and helped her onto the platform. Adelaide was blushing furiously with embarrassment, but she finally worked up enough courage to begin singing.

_O mio babbino caro,_

_mi piace, è bello bello,  
vo'andare in Porta Rossa  
a comperar l'anello!_

_Si, si, ci voglio andare!  
E se l'amassi indarno,  
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio  
ma per buttarmi in Arno!_

_Mi struggo e mi tormento,  
O Dio! Vorrei morir!  
Babbo, pietà, pietà!  
Babbo, pietà, pietà!_

_Oh my dear father,  
I like him, he is very handsome.  
I want to go to Porta Rossa  
to buy the ring!_

_Yes, yes, I want to go there!  
And if my love were in vain,  
I would go to Ponte Vecchio  
and throw myself in the Arno!_

_I am pining and I am tormented,  
Oh God! I would want to die!  
Daddy, have mercy, have mercy!  
Daddy, have mercy, have mercy!_

The Elves were enchanted. It wasn't exactly the high quality of their own music, and a mortal singing Italian in the House of Elrond seemed pathetic compared to the splendor of the Elven hymns to Elbereth, but Adelaide's lovely voice had its own natural individuality, and still sounded extremely beautiful. The Elves were silent as she sang, their eyes and ears dazzled by the crazy college girl from America. Way in the back, Aragorn could not believe what he was hearing. Gandalf and Bilbo beamed, while the hobbits fairly glowed with pride in their lass.

When she finished, Adelaide was pleased to receive a standing ovation, and the Elves eagerly encouraged her to sing more. She delivered very beautiful renditions of Latin Gregorian chant that she had learned in college and operatic pieces that she had learned in choir, and so she was kept late into the night with singing, dancing, and feasting (and drinking), so that by the time Frodo finally managed to pull her away, she was dead-beat.

"I don't think anyone could smile as shining as you are right now," Frodo kissed her hand. "Darling, you were marvelous. What a treasure I have, to be sure!"

"Oh, shut up. My throat feels raw." Adelaide blushed. Frodo kissed her hand again.

"I love you, honey. Come read with me."

"I can't. I'm tired."

"Oh? Lagging, are you, my lass? Who used to spend long nights in a cornfield with her friends?"

"Well..."

"Say yes, or I'll never speak to you again."

"Hey, don't threaten me like that, hobbit-boy, or you'll find yourself talking to empty air. If it comes to that, at least, I guess I'd better come with you. What are we reading tonight?"

"Bilbo lent me his book. May I read it to you?"

"Heck, you're the boss. And I don't think I'll ever be able to read his handwriting anyway. If I fall asleep on you, though, don't say I didn't warn you."

Frodo pulled her into his room and shut the door tightly, pulling out the book. Placing it beside his bed, he motioned to Adelaide. "You look good…good enough to eat."

Adelaide blushed sharply and smiled stupidly. Crazy, crazy, crazy! To be in love with a hobbit, a whole universe apart from her own, in a fantasy land without her cell phone and a decent martini…what was the fucking world coming to? She dropped to her knees to be at eye-level with Frodo. Yes, she'd had a lot of wine. Her head felt warm, dizzy. She smiled at her lover, winking seductively.

"I must be crazy."

"I know what you mean." Frodo smiled. He was aroused and passionately stirred by the beauty of this girl who seemed as though she were walking on air tonight. He didn't intend on staying in his clothes at all. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "I want to look at you all night long."

Adelaide suppressed the urge to giggle. As Frodo pressed his lips to hers, she raised her hands and began rubbing his smooth chest, very lightly. Frodo's breathing became heavier, and his hands found the straps to her gown. Adelaide's heart raced. She knew what was coming. A moment later, Frodo's clever, deft fingers were pushing the gown off her shoulders, and his naked arms were pressed around her body. He pulled her to him and kissed her passionately.

The rest was done noiselessly. As they lay in bed together, Frodo wrapped his arms around Adelaide and stroked her hair.

"I have a question for you, Adelaide."

"I have an answer for you, Frodo."

"Back in Bag End, Gandalf wanted to know why you hadn't told me something. And I keep hearing Strider and others talk about you…they say you have some kind of important information. Adelaide, you're not…well, you're not some kind of…of spy, are you?"

"Oh, that would be cool! But the government would never hire me. I would be too busy trying to organize the files."

"Adelaide, will you be serious?"

"I'm sorry, honey. Um…well, as it happens, I do have some information about…about the Ring and the Enemy and all that…but I'm not a spy. I don't work for any kind of political party or 'side' or other kind of campaign."

"Then why and how do you know what you know? And why have you never told me?"

"Frodo, it's a really long story, and I'm not sure I want to get into it right now," Adelaide said hesitantly. Explaining about Tolkien could take some time, and finding the right words to say was a mucky job. Adelaide was not very good at explaining difficult and delicate situations, and though she knew the truth would have to come out sooner or later, she wanted to be sure that she had some notecards handy, otherwise she would make a mess of things. Frodo saw the worry and concern written all over her face, and he thought she was merely shy of relating what must be an embarrassing situation for her to him.

"Can you at least tell me how MUCH you know?"

"More than you'd probably want me to know."

"Everything? About the Enemy? The Ring?"

"All four-bits and sense, m'dear."

"Adelaide, that's not funny."

"I thought it was."

"You have information about even Sauruman and orcs and nastier thi—what about Gollum?"

"Well, what about him?"

"Well, you can't tell me you have information on him!"

"It just so happens that I do."

"That's a hefty load of information, Adelaide!"

"So what else is new? Please don't worry about it."

Frodo rolled over close to her and boosted himself up on one elbow. "I worry a great deal. You carry about a dangerous amount of information. And why have you never told me about this?"

"Oh for God's sake!" Adelaide exclaimed angrily. "Try telling me something I haven't heard, huh? Strider's told me, and Gandalf's told me, and Elrond's probably going to tell me; I already know it, and I don't need you emphasizing the issue!"

"Adelaide, there's no need to get so upset—"

"So what DO you want me to do, eh, hobbit-boy? Worry my tail-end off? I'm not the one carrying the fucking Ring!"

She pointed, and Frodo looked down. He had nearly forgotten it in the movements of their bodies together, and he was suddenly reminded of the urgency and gravity of the situation. He quickly backed off. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you that much, Adelaide. I just...I just—"

"I know, I know! You care. So does everyone else. But I can't get it through anyone's head that I don't want people to worry. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

"But that's what you've said for the past seventeen years," Frodo said miserably. "What about me?"

"What about you?"

"If you could take care of yourself, you wouldn't need me. You do need me, right, Adelaide? I told you once never to say…to say that you could take care of yourself. Never say such a thing to a lad, Adelaide…he'll think you don't want him around."

Adelaide's brow furrowed with concern again, and the anger faded from her eyes. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean it like that. I do want you and I do need you, and I love you so much for being there for me. I can't always be on my own. I just…I just struggle sometimes. Americans are used to doing things for themselves. Besides, I don't think that worrying is a very sensible thing. There's too much else to be worrying about."

"I agree," Frodo said softly, intending to change the subject for his lady-love. He kissed her neck. "We ought to be more concerned about starting that family, Adelaide."

She leaned forward, and Frodo reached over, boosting himself up properly so he could kiss her ear. Adelaide smiled drowsily. A minute later, Frodo began rubbing her head. She made a noise in her throat and tipped the golden-brown mess onto his chest and into his arms, and Frodo smiled in delight as he fondled the hair and the head it was all attached to. It was one of her many beauties, he'd always said; it was one of the many that she had, and he loved it only second-best to her eyes. He liked it when he had a chance to show her how much he loved her, by exploring her wonders. But he liked it even better if she was docile beneath him.

"Let me be sweet to you again," he whispered. "I've missed you so. It's been weeks since we last made love."

Adelaide rolled over and Frodo shoved back the covers that were too hot for lovemaking. His lover's body was soft in the glow of candlelight, and smelt sweet, like warm vanilla pudding. Her eyes, so merry and powerful in the daylight, were now liquid black, and reflected his own lustful need.

Frodo breathed deeply and kissed Adelaide, stroking along the sensitive contours of her youthful body. She was a curvy kind of gal who wasn't ashamed of her looks. Frodo constantly admired her confidence. At the moment, however, he somewhat doubted his own. He was half her height, and making love to a full-grown human woman was a daunting challenge. Nevertheless, it was somewhat pleasurable for him because Adelaide could be the dominatrix for once…and the thought of Adelaide being bold was arousing. Nevertheless, he intended to be master of the bed for one round. Adelaide had never been sexually active before Frodo; now she gave into him with wild abandon. Frodo pulled himself on top of Adelaide and cupped one smooth, round breast in his hand, flicking his tongue over the nipple, which rose in excitement. Licking and sucking one breast, Frodo put out his hand to fondle the other.

Suddenly, Adelaide grimaced. "Erg, your knee is in my groin."

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lass! Damn the height difference…"

"Hey, why don't you let me do something," she chided playfully. "Lay on your back."

Frodo knew what was coming; she had done it often enough, but for some reason, he ached to receive it now. Not that he hadn't ever, but the seriousness of the past few days had heightened his desire, and when Adelaide bent down to take him into her mouth, he grabbed her head and nearly shoved it into his groin. He rarely climaxed into her mouth, preferring to empty his seed into her womb, but tonight he wanted her to taste him and love him and be sweet to him. When Adelaide pulled her head up again, she winked at him seductively and slid down beside him, curling her leg up and around his body. The smoothness of her skin and her soft whispers in his ear made the little hobbit drowsy, but he was pleased. Even when the girl ran her fingers through his hair and whispered, "Make love to me," Frodo did not refuse but came to her and quickened her body, feeling the waves of pleasure pound her very being. As Frodo then gently pulled away, she gave a low moan of contentment, and he scolded her lightly...she needed to go to bed too, the little silly. Adelaide yawned, let him kiss her one last time, dressed, and then left for her own room.

* * *

Drowsy with the lingering warmth of the hobbit's body, she stumbled out into the cool night air and stood for a moment against one of the pillars, laying her head back between the white morning-glories that twined around the pillar. Sweet flower-perfume rose about her silken tresses, and as she looked up at the twinkling stars, she realized that the singing of the Elves had stopped, and all was quiet. She was the only one up, and she dared to say that she was within her rights. She needed to think. More than likely she'd be tired in the morning, but who really cared?

It was just a passing phase, this nonsense about being info-carrier. People would get over it and start treating her like a human again soon enough. But she knew in her heart that this wasn't true. She'd have people looking out for her everywhere now, good and bad. But more than this, she didn't want the fuss; she wanted to be able to fuss over someone else. Adelaide was an organizer, and hated it if other people started organizing her life for her.

Sitting alone on a bench, she tried to think things out. It was painful to watch someone she loved have a burden as he did, without so much as batting an eye because he knew basically nothing about it. She knew what would happen—he didn't. And here they all were, worrying about her! How dare they? And that Legolas-dude...he really knew how to push her limits, although she had just met him. How come he gave her the shivers, and spoke the way he did? Everyone else did that, but with him, it seemed like something more. She hated the Wood Elves. She despised the love that they tried to give her; she despised all of it, all of it! Then why did she want to cry when Legolas just looked at her? She loved and cared for Frodo. She didn't want another handsome admirer; she wanted only Frodo.

Family. He had mentioned family. He wanted to marry her, she just knew it—but of course he was probably shy of popping the question. She was a foreigner. Sure, she had been integrated into the hobbit community, but she was still a foreigner, for all that. Just because an American moved to Germany didn't mean he or she was a German. But, like any other girl, Adelaide was excited by the thought of marriage and family. And she had moved around too often to worry about having to adjust to a new lifestyle. She was old enough to make a choice for herself, and, as Gandalf had explained, she had only technically been gone from America for about eighteen minutes or so. Her "MISSING" photo was not going to be up on the bulletin board at Wal-Mart for about a million years yet. She could stay in Middle Earth for as long as she wanted, and, hey, if she wanted to get married and have a family, well, why not? Frodo would make such a good father, she was sure of it. And the Shire was a safe place to raise kids—in fact, it was the safest place she could ever think of! Yes, why not?

_But you have college_, she told herself. _You MUST finish your degree first. And if I was to go back into the Primary World, would I ever be able to come back into the Secondary?_ She shivered. _I won't think about it now. I'm going to pull another Scarlett O'Hara and think about it later. We'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, I have to focus on more important things…like explaining to everyone who Tolkien is._

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she jerked up. Aragorn sat down by her side, and she was surprised to find him up so late. He looked tired himself, but his eyes were kind and understanding.

"I do not blame you," he said. "I know that what tortures you is not easy."

"Yeah? What do you know about it, Ranger-man?"

Aragorn sat beside her heavily. "Oh, a good deal, I think, more than what you'd give me credit for. I am not blind, little spitfire."

"I know you're not. But I don't think you really understand. Nobody does, not even Frodo. I mean, seriously, how the hell am I supposed to live if people are fussing over me because I'm the walking Information Center?"

"No, no...I did not mean that. You hold your own very well on that account. I mean the one you love. There are many fish in the sea, Adelaide. But you must hold true. Only one will be the catch of a lifetime."

Adelaide put her hands on her hips. "Hey! Why are you snooping?"

"It isn't snooping. It's ridiculously obvious."

"Oh God, is it really?"

"You are dreadfully in love with Frodo, but now you've seen another."

"Oh hell!"

"And you like him."

"I do NOT."

"Adelaide, I am a man. I know how a woman flirts. It starts with denial."

"Yeah, I'll bet you get a lot of that from Arwen, doncha?"

Aragorn sighed. "How to explain this to you? When you are young, you think you will fall deeply in love only once. Perhaps it is true for some people, but the majority—"

"I happen to be in the minority, thank you."

"I admire your fortitude. It is a great thing to find favor in the eyes of noble Elvish blood. For he is the Prince of Mirkwood, and you have heard tell of his father."

"Big whoop. I hate him."

"Why? He has caused you no harm."

"I know he hasn't," Adelaide growled. "But his kin in Lothlorien did, and fuck them, says I. They were mean to me, and I have no real great desire to fall in love with any of them."

"You do not choose whom you fall in love with," Aragorn said gently.

"No, maybe not. But I fell in love with Frodo, and I intend to remain in love with him. There comes a point when love is a choice. I am bloody well choosing to stay in love with Frodo. Besides, even if I did ADMIT that I like the Elf—which I don't, but if I did—it could only be surface infatuation because he's—this is not my personal opinion—handsome. But it's not deep."

"My goodness, you know yourself better than you think."

"I once had an infatuation with a hobbit who looked like Cary Grant and turned out to be Don Juan. Experience is the teacher."

"And here you had me fooled, thinking that you were just empty-headed."

"Huh, nice save."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're too grumpy and proud to admit that I've had you impressed from the moment we met. Say what you will; you like me."

"Well, I shan't deny that."

"You didn't honestly think I was an air-head, did you?"

"You had your moments."

"Oh, and I suppose you're solid as a pyramid!"

"Not in the least. But I do a better job of seeming solid. You're open and free and unafraid, which makes you quite vulnerable. I suppose I ought to protect that vulnerability, since you haven't got anything else very delicate and femininely refined for me to protect."

"Oh, go jump off a cliff, you nitwit."

"There, you're twitching your nose again. You look like a rabbit."

"I don't want to be your damned 'protection project.' Frodo will get jealous."

"Oh, and this has nothing to do with your pride?"

"I don't want to be adopted!"

"Too late," Aragorn teased her. "Whether you have wished for it or not, you now have a gallant knight-in-shining-armor who is taller than you. You've never been protected properly in your life; you've run around pell-mell under the illusion that you've had to handle everything by yourself, and Frodo may be a good lover for you and a protector while you're short, but you need a man in your life, and I believe that man is going to be me, and I won't hear any arguments. There, now I've made you flustered, little rabbit. Hop back to bed and get some sleep. We have Council tomorrow, and you must know that whether you like it or not, your part in this story is not an idle one. Why are you just sitting here?"

"'Cause I'm waiting for a pig-a-back ride back to my room, that's why."

"You really aren't going to let that go, are you?"

"If I was any shorter, Aragorn, you know you'd do it. You wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. Underneath all that grease and dirt is a very big kid who never had any siblings and who wants children very badly. So carry me up to my chambers, O Bold Bodyguard, and tuck me in like a good daddy ought, and then sing me a lullaby and warn me about the monster in my closet. And if you don't check beneath the bed for Nazgul, I'll cry all night long and annoy you."


	18. I Now Pronounce You Fellowship

Chapter 18

I Now Pronounce You Fellowship!

**This was a chapter that needed revisions because I had to think long and hard about Adelaide's situation. The quotes are from **_**The Tolkien Reader**_**, and I do not own them. They do, however—I think—offer a substantial explanation of how Adelaide—and anyone, really—was and is able to slip into Middle Earth. This chapter is important because it answers questions and sets up more; Adelaide figures out the HOW she got in, but the WHY is something that—naturally!—only she can discover. I find it a very philosophical research: why do people fantasize? Do they want to escape from something real? And if not, then why do we love the realm of the fantastic? The story seeks to answer that question. (In a weird way, I'm discovering that this story is basically a fiction-sort of rehash of my thesis, which WAS on Children's Literature, and I owe my entire college graduation to Mr. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and numerous other fantastic authors for their insights to Fairyland…)**

* * *

The next morning, Adelaide took her breakfast with the hobbits so as to avoid a barrage of Elves. Her head was spinning from the whirlwind of events that had taken place since Weathertop; and all in a single instant it seemed that life would never be the same again. Frodo, she could tell, was itching to be off home again, but he at least had to stay for the Council, and even if he was excused from it he would not have left, for Adelaide was invited to the Council as well, to be an observer and also as one of the chief topics discussed. She felt a bit like a museum exhibition, but she had to come prepared for the revelation of Tolkien, so she made a few notes and brought along _Tree and Leaf_ just in case she needed to quote something.

She talked and laughed with the hobbits all through breakfast, and didn't pay any attention to the Elves, particularly one Legolas Greenleaf. Gandalf informed her that she should sit with Aragorn and the rest of the men, since she was of that race, and he himself escorted her to a seat. The Council was arranged in a circle around a small stone table, with each race sitting apart from the other. Frodo and Gandalf were the solitary representatives of their "tribes," but there were at least three or four Elves, three dwarves, and four men not including Aragorn or Adelaide. She felt shy of being the only female in a ring of males, but at least these were older folk with manners. Adelaide found herself facing Legolas, who merely nodded at her with a smile. Adelaide twitched her nose and looked away. Beastly, arrogant, pointy-eared idiot!

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old." Elrond stood. "You have been summoned here to answer a threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate; this one doom." Elrond looked at the little hobbit seated at the edge of the circle. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Frodo set the Ring down upon the stone table and sank back into his seat with a sigh of relief. Everyone murmured as their eyes gazed upon the Ring, and even Adelaide stared at it with interest. Goodness, but no wonder Gollum liked it so much. It was made of purest gold, and it was beautiful in its simplicity. _If I had the Ring for myself, though_, Adelaide thought with some amusement_, it would probably release my evil alter ego that secretly longs to go raid all the expensive clothes from the 5th Avenue Mall._

"So it is true," Boromir murmured, and a small smile appeared on his face. "This is the Ring then that my dream spoke of…and the halfling also! The One Ring…In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. In the West, a pale light lingered. Voices cried, _Doom's near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found. The One Ring_…"

The crazy man was starting toward the Ring, hand outstretched, a weird look haunting his eyes. He seemed to be almost touching it, and then all of a sudden, Gandalf stood and raised his staff. In a voice like thunder, he repeated, in Mordor tongue, the words of the Ring. The courtyard hushed, the Elves stopped their ears, and the sky seemed to darken with ominous clouds. There was a blinding flash, and Boromir retreated some, shrinking back from the Ring and Gandalf.

Elrond cleared his throat. "None have dared to speak openly those words, Gandalf the Gray," he said. Gandalf passed a hand over his brow.

"I beg your pardon, master Elrond. But if the world were to be overrun like this, we would soon be hearing the language either way. Boromir," he continued harshly, facing the man. "The words on the Ring declare that there is doom ahead for whoever tries to wield the One Ring. You cannot use it."

"It is a gift," protested Boromir. "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay; by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy. Let us use it against him."

Adelaide knew that she was only supposed to be an observer in the fate of the Ring, so she bit her tongue and tried to keep quiet. But she thought that Boromir was a little over-the-top. For God's sakes, the nasty thing had been on Gollum's finger and who exactly knew where Gollum's fingers had been? _Let's not think about that…_

Aragorn spoke up. "You cannot wield it! None of us can! The Ring answers to Sauron alone," he said sharply. "It has no other master!" For Boromir, that was a little much.

"And what," he sneered, "Would a Ranger know of this matter?"

"This is no mere Ranger!" Legolas cried, getting to his feet in a huff. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And you owe him your allegiance." His eyes were blazing. Boromir stared at the Elf for a minute before turning again on Aragorn, who was bright red.

"Aragorn?" he said snidely, impressed, and yet mocking him. "This…is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," repeated Legolas, nearly shaking with rage. It was obvious that the Elf and the Ranger were very close in heart and mind, as two friends often are, and it was obviously obvious that the Elf would not stand for his friend to be mocked. But Aragorn was merely embarrassed by all that attention. Not only were many of the men looking at him with grave respect, Frodo was giving him the strangest look, as if he were sad that his friend was a king, and not Strider the friendly Ranger. He motioned to Legolas.

"_Havadad, Legolas,"_ he said.

"Gondor has no king," muttered Boromir. "Gondor needs no king." It was obvious that this man had some serious issues.

"You have only one choice," Elrond said. "The Ring must be destroyed." At that, there was a dead silence for a minimum of five minutes. Then Gimli, son of Gloin rose, axe in hand.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he cried, charging in. Elrond rose to stop him, but the dwarf raised his axe above the Ring and wham! Slammed the axe down upon it. Something like an earthquake shock shook the entire council. There was a blinding flash of light, and when all was clear, Gimli was lying in shock upon his back, his axe was in pieces upon the table, and the "innocent" little Ring remained unharmed.

"That was intense," Adelaide observed, eyes wide.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed by any weapon made by dwarves, elves, or men, Gimli, son of Gloin," said Elrond. "You have only one choice. In the fires of Mt. Doom was this Ring wrought, and only there can it be unmade again. It must be taken deep into the Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

You could've heard a pin drop.

"One of you…must do this."

The silence was palpable. Finally, big-mouthed Boromir thought to speak again.

"It is madness," he said. "One just simply does not walk into Mordor! Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep! And the great eye is ever-watchful! 'Tis a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ash and dust! The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten-thousand men could you do this! It is folly!"

Adelaide couldn't resist the moment, and raised her hand.

Everyone turned to her in surprise. She waited, her hand held high in the air. Boromir stopped midsentence and stared. Meanwhile, the blood was draining from her hand.

"For heaven's sake, Adelaide, this isn't school," Gandalf said. "Put your hand down, and just stand up and say whatever you want to say!"

"Oh," Adelaide blushed, jerked her hand down, and stood up. "Pardon me, Boro—Boromir—do I have your name right? Okay, yes, well," she said. "First off, you have a lot of good points to consider. I mean, I think it's pretty much well-known that Mordor is an evil place to which not many people go, and from which few ever return alive. I wouldn't want to go there myself. It would be a horrible vacation site. But all joking aside, you just said that ten-thousand armies couldn't penetrate Mordor. But I was wondering—so what? Who cares? Of course Sauron will see ten-thousand troops marching onto his private property. And he's got the advantage of strength and brutality. But pessimistic people never won the Olympics, as I like to say. So ten-thousand armies can't do the job. Okay, what about a few people? I thought you guys knew about the art of subterfuge."

"Fighting deception with deception," Boromir remarked dryly. "How noble."

"Well, whatever gets the job done, I say. He's only got one eye, and he can't concentrate on everything going on in Middle Earth at once," Adelaide joked. "I think we should take advantage of that."

But Boromir would not let her go.

"Well, then what?" he asked. "Suppose two people did go. What then? They would have to encounter huge armies of orcs and nastier things, before they got to the fires. And even if they did make it, the struggle would be too much. They would die in the attempt! That is _my_ point, maid. It takes more than wit to survive in Mordor."

"Okay, so bring along a couple of swords—"

"I would like to know," Boromir said flatly. "What your business is saying anything at all, while you, a foreigner, know nothing of our world or the places and people within it. You know nothing of Mordor. My father is steward over a city resting at its very doorstep. You have not even seen enough of Middle Earth to speak so boldly! Speak nothing of that which you know nothing of."

Frodo had never seen Adelaide so livid before in his life. Her eyes snapped, and she jerked to the edge of her seat, nose twitching furiously, cheeks burning red. The man had insulted and humiliated her in one stroke, and if the hobbit knew Adelaide at all, she was not going to sit quietly and take that kind of abuse.

"'No business of mine' be damned! Who are you to tell me what I know and don't know? The only thing you know about ME is from a couple of curious Rohirric observers! Don't you DARE sit there and tell me I don't know diddly-squat about Middle Earth. YOUR story was written by a man who lived in MY world! Middle Earth is so fucking famous…you have no idea, not one of you! I know more about this place than you would even like to THINK about! And I happen to know, too, that if none of you listen to Elrond and have a little hope in the situation, absolutely nothing is going to be accomplished!"

"It is rumored that you carry more information than any High Elf in history," Boromir said. "In what ways are you so similar to the Ranger who sits beside you, or are you going to suddenly reveal yourself to be some long-lost queen with knowledge that far surpasses our own?"

"Oh my God, no. I hope not. My God, if I was a queen, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I'd probably run away, honest-to-God I would."

"Now you know how I feel," Aragorn murmured beside her.

"But the Ring?" Boromir asked. "Could you possibly know of it? It's making, it's history, it's life? Do you even know more about the matter than Lord Elrond here, or my father, or any great person who sits here today? You are a foreigner! A stranger! How could you know such things, or have you merely learned your history well, and are like as not a deceit of the Enemy?"

"I hate history. And if I was a deceit of the Enemy, believe me, I could've ended the whole story about eighteen chapters ago. As it is, I'm from Alaska, I never wear rings, and I think hobbits are adorable. I'm not quite sure about the men, though. You're beginning to scare the hell out of me."

"Enough," Elrond said sharply. "Boromir, sit. Lady Edessa, stay your anger. You both have need of patience. And all of you, listen. This lady's story is not as far-fetched as it sounds, nor is it any devise of Sauron's, for Gandalf here will tell you more of her. For now, our focus must be on the Ring."

Boromir raised his voice. "It is a gift, I say!" he cried. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why can we not use it?"

Adelaide looked over at him. "You idiot, didn't we just go over that? It doesn't matter who's got it—it will do damage, one way or another. And everyone else knows that too. So just give it up already and go golfing."

But Boromir stood up again.

"It is suicide!" he repeated. "We cannot let anyone simply walk blindly into Mordor!"

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas cried. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" snapped Gimli. Legolas turned on him. His eyes were smoldering again, and his chest was heaving slightly in indignation.

"And if we fail, what then?" asked Boromir. "What will happen when Sauron takes back what is his?"

"I will be _dead_ before I see the Ring in the hands of an _Elf_!" shrieked Gimli.

At this, all the Elves rose up in anger, and began to shout out against the dwarves. Legolas spread his arms to hold back the throng, keeping his angry eyes fixed on Gimli. The dwarves had risen too, and were also shouting at the Elves. Boromir and Gandalf were locked in debate, as well as the other men. Elrond just put his head in his hand and groaned. Adelaide and Frodo were the only ones who sat quiet. Finally, Adelaide walked over to him and plopped down on the ground. Her nose twitched angrily.

"There are times I despise men," she growled. Frodo stroked her hand gently.

"We can't figure women out, either," he said.

"This is ridiculously anal. Why don't they just appoint someone? This would have never happened if only that man, dwarf, and Elf had kept their mouths shut."

"Practical you," Frodo said quietly. "But you had a bit of a temper, too. The Ring must be destroyed, despite the harsh journey. And yet who will do it? Is an Elf brave enough? Is a dwarf companionable enough? Are men so greedy that they would try and jeopardize Middle Earth for their own sake? Are hobbits always to be the ones to do what is right?" He looked sick, and about ready to cry. He had been through so much already, and somehow, he thought that the job was meant for hobbits. Bilbo was a hobbit. Gollum once was a hobbit. Hobbits had played a big role with the Ring. Were they to continue to do so? Adelaide picked up his hand, and kissed it fervently.

"You know, I love you a lot," she said simply.

Frodo looked into her eyes.

He looked back at the Ring.

And then, at last, through the hubbub, there came a clear, but resolute voice, speaking in a little voice, but in a big way.

"I will take it!" Frodo called, sounding like a mouse amidst the racket. Nobody listened. Frodo cried out again. "I will take it!"

Gandalf heard the hobbit, and his face grew grave. Closing his eyes, he turned around, and opened them to see Frodo. A lot of the others were still fighting. Adelaide was mad.

"SHUT UP!"

There was instant quiet. They all turned toward Frodo, who was trembling.

"I will take the Ring," he said. "Though I…though I do not know the way."

Gandalf gave Frodo a nod of approval. The other big folk were looking at the little hobbit in astonishment. Why, a mere Halfling take the Ring into Mordor? But Frodo ignored the scornful looks and did not even acknowledge the glances of admiration. Clearly there was a task to be done, there was only one way to do it, and he would do it even if it took him a million years. There was only one way to solve the problem, one solution to one Ring. They had no other choice. Adelaide beamed at her beau, so ridiculously in love and proud of him for acting in a practical, sensible manner. She, of course, had known that he would be the Ringbearer…but it was for no other reason besides the fact that it was the sensible thing to do, and Frodo was a practical person. Elrond looked smiled at the brave little hobbit.

"This is a long and dangerous task," he said.

"I will help him bear this burden," said Gandalf, coming to stand beside Frodo. "As long as it is yours to bear."

Then Aragorn came forward. "By my life or death, if I can save you, I will," he said. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," said Legolas, coming forward.

"And my axe," said Gimli stoutly, although he and Legolas exchanged dark looks.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," said Boromir. Adelaide groaned. When would the guy give up? "If this is indeed the Will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

_Good grief_, thought Adelaide, _this guy can't take a hint_.

"HERE!" Samwise Gamgee ran out from hiding and appeared by Frodo's side. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

"No indeed, it seems hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," said Elrond sternly, but there was a twinkle in his eye, and his voice was light. Then there was another yell, and Merry and Pippin came running in from behind. Elrond turned with a start. Merry and Pippin positioned themselves with Frodo and Sam.

"We're coming, too!" said Merry.

"You'll have to tie us up in a sack if you don't want us to," said Pippin. "Besides, you need people of intelligence on this sort of journey…mission…quest…thing."

"Well, that rules you out Pip!"

"Nine companions," murmured Elrond. But before he could say another word, Adelaide jumped up and wandered over.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Elrond asked, amused.

"Well, you didn't think I'd stay here, did you? I want in on the fun. Besides, I've never understood this 'Nine Companions' nonsense. Nine companions, nine kings, nine lives...you need a number ten, and that's good luck. Besides, I need to keep an eye on this one here," she winked at Frodo. "Sauron can just back off. I'll watch him, thank you very much. And I can keep TWO eyes on him!" she grinned.

"In Gondor, it is not fitting that a lady should join the men in their missions." Boromir muttered.

"In Gondor, the men all wear their hair long anyway, so how could you possibly tell the difference?"

"Adelaide," Aragorn warned.

"Well, he insulted me first! Besides, I'm not afraid of some fiery ol' eye at the top of a tower. Sauron can just stew in hell, for all I care. I'm not staying here. I refuse to be left out. I'm in on it all. Besides, I know first aid and CPR, and you can't possibly expect Sam to do all the cooking.

"Adelaide's a handy person to have around," agreed Aragorn, unexpectedly sticking up for his "protective project," who beamed gratefully at him. "She's able to hold her own in the wild. Alaskans are hardy survivalists, are they not, Adelaide?"

Boromir stared at Aragorn.

"But we know nothing about her!" he said. "Nothing of her life or her time or herself! Why should we take her along?"

"Because I'm not staying behind!" snapped Adelaide. "I absolutely refuse to do anything of the sort! If you have a problem with it, go soak your head!"

"I was coming to that, if you please," interrupted Elrond. "Adelaide is one of the things we were to discuss at this Council, though it seemed like a trivial matter to her," Elrond said quietly. "As it is, she is wrapped up in the fate of the Ring. It is crucial now that we hear her side of the story—no, not ours, maid, yours—and decide what sort of things must be done. Adelaide, come forth now and tell us who you are, how you came here, and what you know about us."

Adelaide twitched her nose with embarrassment, turning red at being the center of attention. Gandalf, however, saved her life. "Adelaide, my dear, perhaps you ought to tell us first the story of how you came here."

Well, that was easy! Adelaide had not forgotten a single detail of the incident, and she related the tale of her trip from the library to the coffee-shop to Wal-Mart and then back home—except she had never reached home. She politely skipped over unnecessary details about her introduction in Lothlorien and briefly sketched out some of the main details of her life in Rohan before meeting up with Gandalf. Then came the moment she had been dreading—the moment when she had opened her book and discovered that she had delivered herself into Tolkien's Secondary World. She felt awkward as she brought out _Tree and Leaf_ and read the quote. Then she was silent. Gandalf prompted her.

"Adelaide, my dear, you must tell them."

"I don't know how. I feel all…awkward turtle."

"Be simple about it."

Adelaide chose to face Lord Elrond instead of the rest of the Fellowship. She could not look at Frodo. She had deceived him all those years, and what must he think of her? Not that it was anything bad, per se, but…but something about the whole situation still felt strange and uncomfortable. Elrond's face was gentle and without shadow on it, encouraging her to take heart and have no fear. So she spoke to him.

"There was a man from my world…the Primary World. The author of this book here, J.R.R. Tolkien. He…well, he lived in England, and…and he was a Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford. Well, one day while grading papers he idly picked up his pen and…and wrote the sentence: 'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.' He wrote the story called _The Hobbit_. He wrote about Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf and the dwarves and…and…and Rivendell, and Gollum and the orcs and Smaug. Tolkien invented Middle Earth and its history and geography and languages. He invented all of YOU. Middle Earth is his Secondary World, and you are the mythology of England."

"What?"

The sudden gasp came from Frodo, but Adelaide couldn't look at him. She felt hot with shame and embarrassment. Frodo felt stung, as if Adelaide had just dumped him or punched him in the gut. "Adelaide, what do you mean? Are you calling us…do you mean…are we…we can't be figments of someone's imagination! We're real, aren't we? This isn't happening in your head; we're real, aren't we?"

"Hush, let her talk," Gandalf said gently. "Adelaide, please tell us about Mr. Tolkien. You're reading him for your thesis, aren't you? Well, well, give us some inside news."

"Erm…well, uh…like I said, he was a professor—a teacher—of Anglo-Saxon. He lived in during the 1940's, during World War II in my world. His son, Christopher Tolkien, was a soldier in the British Army, and Tolkien himself, I think, fought in World War I. My history on him is a bit rusty. But…well, you know the tale of Beren and Luthien? Tolkien…well, his wife's name was Edith, but he fashioned the tale of Beren and Luthien around a moment when he saw his wife dancing in a park. The names are engraved on their tombstones: Edith's reads 'Luthien,' and Tolkien's is 'Beren.' And he could deny it 'til he was blue in the face, but Sauron was modeled after Hitler! And he drew all the maps, too, and invented Elvish and—"

"Please, slow down," Aragorn said. "Your tongue runs ahead of your mind. Let me see the book, please."

Adelaide handed it to him, and Aragorn gazed long and thoughtfully at the picture of Tolkien on the back. "He looks like a noble man," he remarked. "Actually, he looks like Bilbo! I would have liked to meet him face-to-face…but perhaps we already met in his mind, when he wrote my name for the first time."

"Actually, your first name was 'Trotter,'" Adelaide chuckled. "And it took a while for you to develop."

"But this is the man who brought us all into existence?" Elrond asked.

"Yup."

"Adelaide, why didn't you tell me?" Frodo burst out. "Why did you keep it such a secret from me? All those years…why?"

"Uh...because it's not a crime?"

Frodo gave her a look, and Adelaide looked helplessly at him. "What was I supposed to do, spill the beans? Not to be rude, but even the Elves of Lothlorien didn't believe me! No offense, Rumil," she added, spreading her hands in supplication. "But they thought I was nuts. How would hobbits react...how would anyone react? Nobody would believe me when I said I was from somewhere else! How am I supposed to tell people that I come from a world in which one man has written about Middle Earth's entire history? He made it up as mythology for the country of England, 'cause England doesn't have any mythology. How do I explain it all?"

"You might have trusted me more," Frodo said bitterly.

"Could I have trusted the Ringbearer?"

"You knew—"

She nodded, and suddenly Frodo felt betrayed—stabbed in the back. He had loved her and wanted to marry her, and all the time she was letting him walk blindly into danger! She knew what the outcome of the story would be; she knew of his actions and the movements of the Enemy—Frodo turned white in horror. "Adelaide, that's why they're looking for you!"

"Apparently. I'm glad I didn't spill more than I had to."

"And we're glad you did not," Elrond interrupted firmly. "That, I think, would be a little like counting our chicks before they hatch. You must realize now that you have important information, Adelaide...that it is harmful to you and your associates. Well, now we have a part of the story, and we realize some things, but now we are curious as to HOW you came here and WHY. We have reason to believe that you are here because you have placed yourself here."

"I—wait, I couldn't have."

"Why not?"

"Well…why should I have? I haven't picked up a book by Tolkien for a while—I mean _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the Rings_."

"I don't mean you have got yourself here on purpose," Elrond explained. "But something triggered the doorway, otherwise you would NOT be here at all. If there is a door between the Primary and the Secondary worlds, it is mental, born of your mind."

"What do you mean?"

"Before we answer that," Gandalf said. "I believe we must know the answer first to a crucial question, Adelaide, and that is: what were you thinking before you…er, popped your tire?"

"Now, just how the hell am I supposed to remember that?"

"Think carefully. It has only been about eighteen minutes or so back in your world. Surely you can remember something." Gandalf watched her for a minute, and then added helpfully: "Perhaps you were thinking about some kind of transportation."

"I didn't ride a train here. Didn't sail. Didn't fly. Didn't pig-a-back. I drove. But I wasn't thinking about driving. My mind—er, my mind wasn't on the road. It was…well, now that I think about it…hey, I WAS thinking about the sea."

"The sea?"

"Yeah, I was thinking of the time when I moved to Virginia—a state on the East Coast by the Atlantic Ocean. I wanted to open up a bunch of oysters to find myself a pearl, but I never did. Find the pearls, I mean—never found a one. But I loved the ocean. Wanted to work at SeaWorld when I was little. I was always fond of boating and swimming, and I do a lot of kayaking up in Alaska. I like the water."

Elrond regarded her with respect. "Perhaps you did indeed sail over the sea, then, for that is one way to come in and out of Middle Earth."

"Are you telling me I _imagined_ myself into this place?"

"I believe that's precisely what you've done."

"But why Middle Earth? Why not…I don't know, Oz, or something?"

"I'm not sure what Oz is, but the reason for Middle Earth is something you must discover on your own," Elrond said. "Now, we have answered the how, but the why remains to be seen—and perhaps it is something that only you can discover."

"But I don't understand," Adelaide said. "I still don't get how my imagination could have possibly done this to me. There's a cheesy line out there that says imagination transports a person to anywhere in the world, but that's fantasy, it's not real. Middle Earth…well, it FEELS real enough, but come on! You were invented by someone else from my world! How is it possible for my imagination to bring me here?"

Gandalf sighed. "Adelaide, let me see that book, please." He flipped through the pages. "Ah, here we are. I made a mental note of these pages when we looked at it together when first we met. I thought these words were very important, and I have mulled over them in my head for a long time. Listen. 'Far to the north there are the Iron Hills…'" Gandalf read aloud. "These are the boundaries of Middle Earth, and this is the world that J.R.R. Tolkien explored and chronicled in The Lord of the Rings. I do not say created, for it was always there…the forces that form the lives of the dwellers of Middle Earth are the same that make our lives—history, chance, and desire'…and here, Adelaide, listen: 'Tolkien tells us something of each of these peoples—their songs, their legends, their customs, and their relations with one another—but he is wise enough not to tell all that he knows of them and their world. One can do that with literary creations, _but not with anything living_…_I believe that Tolkien has wandered in Middle Earth_.' There. What have you to say to that?"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

"Please don't. This must make your head spin! Sit down, and please, someone, fetch her a glass of water. She looks positively ill. Adelaide, my dear, put your head between your knees; the feeling will pass. So, what you imagined to be fantasy is real after all! This Tolkien has chronicled our history for he has wandered our realm. I wonder we never remembered him—but perhaps he came in a form unknown to us. Perhaps he was even larger than the Valar to see above and beyond them, even to the point of detailing the creation of Arda. There, there, why are you crying?"

"I can't help it," Adelaide said, trying to fight off her tears. "And I don't know! I'm so…so…so damned weirded out! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A FAIRY-TALE! This is supposed to be a $20-paperback novel from the local bookstore! None of this—none of you—not a single thing here—is supposed to be real!" Adelaide saw Frodo's eyes brimming with tears, but she felt better for having exploded like that and got the burden off her shoulders. She wanted to know the truth. The truth! It seemed so far-fetched! She had difficulty accepting it for what it was. "If this is a real place, why haven't others been sucked into it, like I have?"

"That's a good question," Elrond said kindly. "But if I may guess at it, I should believe that our Secondary World is so protected—after all, if Tolkien has walked here and published so many accounts of what he has seen, then we should have seen a good deal of people flocking this way—tourists, I believe you call them? Perhaps, then, our borders are so guarded that we exist for different people as they believe us to be."

"You'll have to explain that."

"Then I shall do so. Certainly as you say, many people have read of us, but they have different interpretations of what we are like! For this Tolkien apparently has not, as this person writes, written down all that he knows of us, so our real selves have never been seen except by him, I should imagine, since he was the first visitor to our realm. These various elucidations keep us so protected that perhaps other people have visited—but they have visited their interpretation of our reality."

"Oh…" Adelaide tried to figure this out. Gandalf explained a little more.

"Adelaide, if I was to tell you to draw a picture of that flower over there, it would not be the flower itself, would it?"

"Of course not. Just a picture."

"But a picture of how you see the flower in your mind, am I correct? A reflection of what you view? Your memory holds the vision perfectly, does it not? Well, imagine for a moment a hundred artists drawing the same flower. No two pictures would be alike, would they?"

The truth began dawning on Adelaide. "Are you trying to tell me that I imagined myself into my own interpretation of Middle Earth?"

"So it would seem."

"I AM going to be sick, now."

"Please don't."

"I can't help it."

"You can."

"So…so what I'm looking at now—this is MY interpretation of what everyone and everything looks like? Wow…it's…well…how is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well…my interpretation isn't BAD, is it? If this isn't actually what you guys look like in real, real life—oh, I give up. I'm not even going to try dissecting my interpretations. I'm SO weirded out right now. I'll pull myself inside out with all the thinking."

"Good for you," Gandalf praised her cheerfully. "As it is, your interpretation is untouched by any other. It is a Secondary World that only you are privy to. We are as secret to your heart and mind as lovers are to each other."

Adelaide stared at him. "Say that again."

"Which part?"

"The part about lovers…that this world, my interpretation of Middle Earth is like a lover. Like…"

_Bride_.

"Never mind. I'm overthinking myself. Well, okay, so Middle Earth is real, and here I am, and I have yet to discover why. But I want to know why I can't imagine myself back home."

"Possibly it is because you don't want to," said Elrond. "Your body and mind want one thing, but your heart tells you another. Can you not listen to your heart?"

"No. How am I supposed to do that? Do you mean, like, running on emotions?" Adelaide inquired curiously. "Because I don't think that's very wise at all."

"Running on emotions is different," Gandalf explained gently. "Listening to your heart takes time and effort. You will have to train yourself to find that inner peace which will allow you to go home. Until that time comes, you are subject to this land. You are open to the causes and effects here in Middle earth; you are not exempt from pain, suffering, or death. Only one thing remains…a year here is a minute over in your world. You are still young—twenty-three, correct? You are going to remain so as long as you are in this world—it would take over a thousand years just to boost you up to age twenty-four."

"Dude…I'd be like…immortal, unless I…er, committed suicide. Well…let's just say for a moment—hypothetically—that the quest fails and Sauron gets the Ring. What would happen then?"

"I think it best you didn't know."

"I think you'd better tell me, or I'll pester you the entire trip about it."

"Lady, what would you have? The results are not pleasant to brood over."

"There is only one thing that concerns me," said Elrond. "If the Enemy were to capture you, He might be able to make you speak about information that concerns and endangers us all. I think it would be for your benefit if you stayed here."

"My benefit? No offense meant, sir, but what exactly am I supposed to do—twiddle my thumbs and listen to Elvish chanting all day and all night while I wait for you to pass over the sea? I'll go nuts. I have to do something. I have to stay busy. I can't just sit around and wait. I have to go with Frodo."

"Nobody is forcing you," Aragorn warned.

"That's okay, I'd rather they didn't."

"You realize that you are taking a dangerous chance."

"I'M taking the dangerous chance? You just permitted a HALFLING to carry the Ring of Power into Mordor. That's a pretty dangerous chance, sir."

Elrond gazed at her in thoughtful silence. "As far as I know, and as far as I can see, it seems that you have neither a choice nor a freedom."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Adelaide. "Are you trying to tell me that I don't or won't have a choice to go home, or that I won't have the freedom to go?"

"I cannot say for now."

"But I want to know now!" begged Adelaide. "I…I think I should go home at some point, shouldn't I?"

"Why do you desire your home so badly?" asked Elrond. "What is there that you desire so much? From what Gandalf has told me, it seems this world is neither pleasant nor amiable. It seems almost even more heathenish than any mortal city here."

"Thanks," Adelaide said dryly. "Gandalf probably overreacted a bit at the explanation of traffic. But I wouldn't care if I walked back into the worse traffic jam in the world! There's no place like home. And if I could be assured that I could keep on coming back to Middle Earth, then the stress of coming and going wouldn't bother me so much. But I would like to finish up college. Besides…this isn't what I call progressive civilization. I miss cell-phones and electricity. And I haven't seen a good football game in years."

"Oooo," Merry whispered. "Burned."

Gandalf chuckled. "I see I have made a dreadful mistake in politely insulting someone's home."

"So, can I go or not? I think I get some sort of dib on the issue, don't I?"

Elrond sighed. "Stand by Frodo and be content with your place then, lady. If that is what you wish, I cannot hinder you. These companions shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!"

"Great!" said Pippin. "Where are we going?"


	19. A Southin' We Will Go

Chapter 20: Oh, A-Southin' We Will Go

**Hey, everyone, I'm back! I was really busy finishing up my LAST SEMESTER OF COLLEGE! Whoo-hoo! Poor Adelaide is still stuck in her senior year. Don't worry, she'll graduate too, at some point after her Middle Earth experience. With Aragorn giving her tips on how to write a thesis, how could she NOT graduate? **

After the Council, everyone dispersed to pack and relax. Adelaide milled around for a while and then decided to put a toothbrush in her backback. Aside from her first aid kit and a couple of fresh pairs of underwear, she wasn't sure what else to bring.

Now that she had been properly introduced to the Elven folk of Imladris, Elves were showering her with gifts left and right: jewels, gem-encrusted hair pieces, small musical instruments, pieces of glittering clothing, girdles of gold and silver, and even slippers as soft as moonlight and twice as gleaming. Adelaide had also been showered with gowns, including a few that Arwen had grown out of, or didn't favor anymore.

"What the heck am I going to do with all this?" Adelaide muttered.

"I'll keep it for you," Bilbo volunteered.

With that problem solved, Adelaide went down the hall to see Aragorn. He looked her over with satisfaction. "You shall do," he mused. "But there is something lacking. I do not truly think that your clothing is fit for a journey. You stand out as an American every which way. Suppose we fixed that!"

Adelaide stifled a groan as Aragorn presented her with an outfit—Elvish-looking. "It was made by the Elves for you," he said, completely missing Adelaide's look of bleak despair. "And it resembles closely to the outfits of Mirkwood and Lothlorien, only in a different way."

The outfit had a pair of boots, a blouse with an overcoat, leggings, a skirt to cover the pants to allow for movement (and to give her some feminine dignity), and gloves. Aragorn, embarrassed, said that Arwen had made the gloves. "She's delighted with you," he said, and then, blood-red, said, "Adelaide, she mentioned that you might help us both."

"With what?"

"Well…things."

"Things? I don't want to have to teach a man how to kiss."

"Not that! But just…things."

"Like how to sweep her off her feet, and all that? Present her with flowers on her birthday? Why are you coming to me? Read the _Kama Sutra_."

Aragorn looked so humiliated. "I trust you."

"Cool beans. I promise, I will help you with whatever you want help with. Seriously, anytime you feel a need to pour forth your emotions, let me know, and I will be there for you."

She put the outfit on, and Aragorn held her at arm's length, looking her over.

"Very nice," he praised. "You look as if you're already an Elf! Do you feel comfortable enough for battle and fighting, in case there need be?"

"Yup. This is very nice. You sure I can't wear my jeans?"

"Would you offend your hosts? Now, go and find Frodo to see if he's ready. We eat tonight and set out early in the morning."

Adelaide passed by Boromir and the men as she went her way. She waved to them cheerfully, and they stared at her, open-mouthed, without saying anything. _Ha-ha_, she thought. _I'm going on the trip, and you can't stop me. What now, man of Gondor? Owned by a woman. Schooled by a girl. Fucked up and tagged out by a female of the species. Na-na-na na-na naaaaahhhhh_. She walked past them and went on to where Frodo was. To her complete amazement, Legolas was standing in the archway, talking in Elvish to another Elf of Rivendell. The other Elf spied her and smiled.

"My goodness! The lady looks very fine indeed this morning!" He bowed to her and kissed her hand. "I am glad that you are wearing stuff made by Elves. It will do everything to protect you, and will keep you warm when it is cold."

"Good. For a minute there, the situation looked hopeless." Adelaide chuckled.

"Will you honor us tonight at dinner?" he asked. "It will be the last night we Elves shall see you, I fear."

Adelaide smiled. "Sure, dude. I can do that."

The Elf looked enchanted. "I admire, my dear, that you should have come so far, only to go further still in your duty," he said warmly. "Legolas, tell me what you think of her! Does she not look as fine as the female bowmen in your own woodland realm?"

"More than their match," Legolas said politely, and bowed again. "Well-met, my lady."

Adelaide nodded. "Huh. Whatever that's supposed to mean."

There was an awkward pause before the other Elf interjected. "So! How feel you, lady, about taking up such a responsibility…going with this Fellowship?"

"It's cool. I mean, what else have I got to do, you know?"

"I believe most ladies would tend their sewing."

"Yes, well, that's their business if they want to sew; all the power to 'em. I'm going for a hike."

"Of course," Legolas said, smiling. "I admire your philosophy, lady. Such spirit is admirable."

Adelaide burned red with anger—just because she damn well could.

"My Prince, you've made her blush," cooed the other Elf. "Such a humble young woman. A pity you are mortal, my lady. Were you an Elf, you could have suitors lined up for a few miles, at least, though I am sure you already have a lover, do you not?"

Aha! Here was Adelaide's chance to let them all know she was taken. "I do," she said proudly. "The Ringbearer, actually. Frodo Baggins."

The Elf exchanged looks with Legolas. Adelaide couldn't figure out what passed between them. Didn't they believe her? She then realized that, what with the height difference, her words might have been taken for pure sarcasm.

"Seriously, I'm not joking," she said quickly. "I really am dating Frodo."

"Perhaps it will not last," said the Elf smugly, and Adelaide suddenly had an urge to wipe the stupid grin off his face. Legolas at least had the brains to remain silent and neutral on the subject. His face was passive as he acknowledged with an inclination of his head the words Adelaide had spoken. Adelaide looked at the two of them.

"In fact, I was just on my way to see him," she announced. "So I'll bid y'all farewell. See y'later, Greenpeace."

"Greenleaf," she heard Legolas murmur behind her.

Exit stage right.

She knocked on Frodo's door.

"Yes? Who is it?"

"Bozo the Clown, you ninny. Who else? Open up."

"Oh Adelaide!" He opened up the door and smiled in delight. "My goodness, but you do look very nice! I would never have thought that of you. You're so very stubborn about wearing your own clothing."

"Nneeggggggghhhhhhhh, well, couldn't turn down a gift."

"You've been getting a good deal of attention lately," Frodo chuckled. "I'm disappointed it's not mine though."

"Sweetie, we just had a make-out session that melted my legs and fried everything else."

"No, we didn't. You drained _me_, love."

"I suppose I do have that affect on men. I'm just that good, babe."

"Mmm," Frodo murmured, kissing her cheek. "You ARE that good…and you look beautiful. "Although I must say that I think you look much prettier in a gown."

"What is it about men and gowns?"

Frodo stopped kissing her. "By the way, where did you go last night? I went to your room to give back something you left, and I couldn't find you."

"What the hell has that got to do with men and gowns? I'm sorry. I was busy."

"Busy? You said you were tired." Frodo's gaze hardened slightly in an expression Adelaide knew all too well. She smiled gently.

"I was just talking with Aragorn. I couldn't sleep, and I needed to think…and we just had a nice talk together about his girlfriend. He needs some advice."

"Oh," Frodo looked relieved. "That's all it was, then! I'm delighted. Look at what Bilbo gave me!"

He stripped off his shirt and to Adelaide's wonder, she saw a beautiful shirt that seemed studded with crystal jewels and silver. She placed her fingers on the lining. It was remarkably soft and light, as if it were a mail coat, but made of feathers. Frodo smiled under her touch.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "Don't tell anyone! This is a secret between you, me, and Bilbo. It's mithril. It is supposed to keep me from harm, and I readily believe it. Do I look alright in it?" he added, meekly. "I didn't feel right, at first, but I want your opinion."

Adelaide laughed. "Man, you look awesome. I didn't know you were all down with fashion and that sort of stuff." She couldn't resist chucking his chin. "Are you wearing it to dinner?"

"Oh, yes," said Frodo. "Once I'm in it, I feel like I could never get out of it; it is so comfortable. Are you dining with us hobbits?"

"I'm afraid not," sighed Adelaide. "The Elves prevailed upon me again, and I really can't say no, even if I really wanted to. It's their last night with me."

"Well," said Frodo, controlling his disappointment. "Will you come visit me tonight, anyway?"

"I'll do the best I can."

Frodo was quiet for a minute, thinking. Then he gently reached up and cradled the side of her cheek in his palm, marveling at the soft, downy texture, and the warm life running through the veins there. Adelaide drew in her breath quickly and quietly, unable to believe what pleasurable sensations were coursing through her body. She leaned into his hand ever so slightly, and was quiet, letting him talk gently to her.

"I know that you may have kept…your secret from me with good intentions," he said softly. "I understand that your reasons for doing so were honorable. But I should have thought that the trust between us was so strong that you would have trusted the weight of any secret—no matter how heavy—with me. It would have been better for the both of us."

"Hey," she said gently. "It ain't for me to decide that. I wanted to tell you. It's not that I didn't trust you. I didn't trust myself. I wanted to be sure that when I did spill the beans, I'd spill into the right hands."

"And mine weren't the right hands."

"It's nothing personal, darlin'."

Frodo was quiet for a minute. "Can I ask a delicate question?"

"Absolutely, babe. What is it?"

"Is this reall how it's supposed to be? In Mr. Tolkien's book, I mean. Am I really meant to take the Ring?"

"Yeah."

"Will I succeed?"

"I can't say," Adelaide shook her head. "I want to tell you, but I can't. Please, don't pester me about it. Gandalf will have both our heads."

Frodo was quiet for a moment.

"Adelaide?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me something."

"That depends on what it is."

"Nothing bad."

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you won't...you won't ever tell me the ending."

She made the promise.

As she walked from the room, a figure brushed by her.

"My lady!"

_Oh good God_. "What do you want?"

Legolas was smiling merrily. Moonlight shone upon his face as he scaled her up and down with his eyes. He seemed to be finding something that Adelaide didn't want discovered. His prodding made her angry, and she drew her wrap closer. The Elf bowed.

"My lady, the stars are out, and there is music in the air. Would you care to dance?"

"No."

"Come! Surely I am not so repulsive as to keep such a beautiful woman from a little dance."

"I have better things to do with my life."

"Such as…?"

She turned on him. "Such as getting a decent sleep before our trip tomorrow."

"Very well, my lady," he said, and bowed again. "May you have the pleasure of a sleep well-earned. I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, don't hold your breath," Adelaide snapped. She turned on her heel and walked away from him. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, trying to get in and snatch the rug right out from beneath her settled thoughts and resolutions, but she blocked him off neatly, shutting the door in his face and closing off the light. The breeze fluttered her garments, and she shivered. She could hear the Elves singing and playing upon their harps, but she paid them no heed as she rushed off to her bedroom. Halfway there, however, she was stopped by none other than Big-mouth, get-into-a-hell-of-a-lot-of-trouble Boromir. He looked apologetic.

"I would like you to forgive me for what I said today," he said, shifting his feet. "In Gondor, a maiden who risks her life for the sake of others' is looked upon with honor. It is a deed of valor that she gives, and I have seen it today with my own eyes. I had not thought that you would do such a thing, for I know you only as an alien to Middle Earth. Forgive me, my lady; oft I do things in anger, but I meant no disrespect."

"I didn't think you did," Adelaide replied carefully. "I have the same problem."

"You do?"

"Oh hell yeah. I'm, like, horrible about keeping my temper under control. So I sometimes snap and get out of hand, but I like to think I try."

"Then I hope you shall forgive me?"

"Sure," Adelaide smiled. "No harm done, and the ice is broken. Otherwise, it'd have been awkward-turtle for the rest of the trip. This is going to be fun. I hope that you'll get to know me better during the trip, because I want to know all about you and Gondor, but I hope you don't think ill of _me_. I don't think ill of you. You're a pretty cool guy."

The man shifted shyly. "I should like to know you more during our quest," he said. "My father had heard tidings of you from Rohan, and the people there paint such a picture of you with their words I almost expected a goddess. But you are—you'll pardon me, lady—quite simple after all. And yet, you are different…unique. I am astounded with you. Shall we not know each other better? Accept my friendship."

"You've got it," Adelaide grinned. "And you've got mine. I mean, it doesn't make any sense to be enemies with everyone, right?"

Boromir smiled and looked a little awkward. "They say you were very much loved in Rohan," he said. "But that you left on account of corwardice. That you had done something dreadful, and did not stay to face justice. But I could never believe something like that of you."

"Who said that?" Adelaide demanded. "Not Eomer!"

"Nay, maiden. Eomer loves you too much for that, and he was banished from Rohan's court by the king."

_A.K.A. Grima Wormtongue, the snotty bastard. Wait'll I get my hands on him!_

"Then who said it?"

"I do not remember the guard's name...Hama, or something like that. He had gotten his information from another in the Golden Hall, but he does not believe such lies. Tell me, is it true, or isn't it?"

"I left Rohan because of the King's councilor, Grima Wormtongue," Adelaide growled. "He made the king sign a warrant for my arrest. And if there was no warrant to be had right now, I would go back to Rohan and kill Grima with my bare hands. He deserves nothing less. But Boromir," Adelaide was suddenly frightened. "Did you hear anything else? What about the lady of Rohan—King Theoden's niece, Eowyn?"

"I do not know the maid, nor have I heard anything of her."

The news crushed Adelaide's heart, and she bit her lip.

"Damn it. I'll get to her, one way or another. She's my best friend, y'know, and the king's councilor has got this huge crush on her—and we were going to kick his ass. I'll get him someday. Any other news from Rohan?"

"None, maid. But you were beloved there. They speak of you all the time."

"Oh, they just liked all the games of tag. If I hadn't come along, the men would have found all the women dreadful dull."

They parted as good friends. Boromir went his way, and Adelaide went back to her room for some decent sleep. And she got it. In the morning, she was fresh, and ready to go. She was happy, but still to have no news of Eowyn was disheartening.

The Fellowship walked out of the gate with Frodo in the front, Gandalf just behind, with Merry and Pippin, and then Boromir, Sam, Legolas, Gimli, and then Aragorn. Adelaide trotted next to Aragorn or with Gimli, but she stayed far away from Legolas. And as they left, there were a bunch of Elves who had come to say good-bye. Most of them took up Adelaide's hand and kissed it, but Arwen was there, and she shared a secret smile with Adelaide, who winked back.

Elrond spread his hands in a final blessing. "The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest of Mt. Doom, and you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell, hold to your purpose, and may the blessings of Elves, men, and all free folk go with you."

Elrond smiled at the Fellowship. But while they passed by him with gestures of reverence, Adelaide hugged the great Elven lord.

"You are, like, the best ever," she grinned. "When can I come back? I don't know when I'm going home, but I'm coming here before I go. You and me, Elrond, we're pals now."

Elrond patted her cheek.

"There, now. You're a young woman with many fine gifts and talents, and you shall be missed. You are beloved of our people here, and I am grateful for you. Rivendell has rarely seen such a cheerful presence. Its doors are open to you above all other mortals, lady, and whenever you want to return, I will have a room ready for you."

"That's a promise?"

"That's a promise."

Adelaide smiled, kissed the Elf-lord's cheek, and then ran off to catch up with the Fellowship.

They set out at a great pace that day. It seemed to Adelaide as though they traveled hundreds of miles on just that one day, across plains and valleys, and over hills and mountains. She was fascinated by everything she saw. Gimli and Aragorn were very informative, as well as Gandalf; they pointed out the mountains and their names, and labeled everything from peaks and points to streams and valleys. Adelaide could hardly keep up with it all. There were names in the language of men, dwarves and Elves, and even Gandalf called one peak something that was derived from Istari. It was all so magical and beautiful. But the others were interested in what Adelaide had to say about her world. As they rested, Boromir pestered her to tell about her world. After several vain attempts to ignore the whole issue, Adelaide finally gave in, because Aragorn had threatened to make her the official Fellowship Water-Boy (or girl, in this case). So, without further ado, Adelaide began speaking.


	20. Love Lessons and Vacation Sites

Chapter 21: Love Lessons and Vacation Sites

**DISCLAIMER: Once again, I own nothing except Adelaide. I heartily apologize to all Adelaide's fans, but her explanation of her world and trying to get Aragorn to understand the nature of coffee is just too big a chapter to put onto this story. So we've skipped ahead to other parts. If you want to see the whole detailed explanation, which I HAVE written, check out the story "Where I Come From…" (which is not in existence on this website yet, but it WILL be, I promise…) **

"Aragorn."

"Mm?"

"You ever play Truth or Dare?"

"What's that?"

"Okay, I ask you, Truth or Dare, and you say either Truth or Dare. If you pick truth, you have to answer my questions truthfully. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever I tell you. So, Aragorn…truth or dare?"

"Umm…truth."

"Have you ever made out with Arwen?"

Aragorn sat up straight. "_What_?"

"Answer truthfully."

"Adelaide, what's making out?"

"Have you ever kissed her? I mean, like, really kissed her? French-kissed? Have you ever shot fireworks off?"

Aragorn thought about that. "Not quite. We have kissed tenderly, with all the gentle beauty and warmth of our relationship, such as it is."

"Oh hell, that's a nice answer."

"You asked me to speak truthfully."

"You mean to tell me that you've never done anything other than 'kissed tenderly with all the gentle beauty and warmth of the relationship'?"

"What else may we do?"

"Oh my God. You need to be educated in sex."

"That," Aragorn said sternly. "Is strictly forbidden until marriage."

"I'm not talking about intercourse…okay, let me rephrase myself. You need to be educated in the flames of passion."

"Maid, I'm ashamed of you. How can you speak of such things? I would keep myself pure until that time of holy matrimony."

"You're a puritan."

"I am not."

"You just said so. It's not a sin to kiss passionately. It's a good way to keep the fires burning brightly, with just a hint of the good things to come. I don't mean that you go all out on her every single night of the relationship. But show a little more affection than just kissing in a tender regard! French-kiss her sometime, and see how she likes it."

"There may be no 'sometime' to even experiment, maid. My Arwen will travel soon overseas, to Valinor. I have told her that she must do this thing, for herself. I would have her travel with her kin and live forever."

"Very romantic. But what does _she_ want?"

"To stay with me. But I have asked—"

"Oh, so you're just going to ignore what she wants, is that it?"

"No, not at all, it's just that—"

"So you want her to do what you want, which is what you think is the best for her, right?"

"Er…"

"Boy, what a selfish bastard you are."

"Adelaide!" Frodo scolded.

"Don't 'Adelaide' me. The man's a complete noodle-brained dickhead. If Arwen wants to stay with Aragorn, then she wants to stay with Aragorn, and that's that!"

"It isn't so simple," Aragorn sighed. "Adelaide, she has no idea of the consequences of her actions. She cannot see so far ahead that she may understand what a mortal life entails."

"Guess what?" Adelaide gasped in mock horror. "Neither do I! Nobody does, except Lord Elrond, or so I hear. A woman who's willing to take the risk—don't ever shove that under the table, you idiot! There's a woman who'll go far for you. Let her do it. A woman's got to do that sort of a thing, 'cause she loves you so much. Men just don't get it about women. They think that it's all lah-dee-dah, and a woman's love is about as cheap as it comes because she's desperate. Honey, a woman is like a bulldog. When she's in love, she's in love, and she won't give up."

"Love is blind," Legolas added.

"Now, if you REALLY want to impress her," Adelaide suggested. "Go into Rivedell, sweep her off her feet, and carry her off into the sunset, Errol Flynn style."

"Adelaide, it isn't that simple," said Aragorn. "One just doesn't go around snatching off beautiful damsels, and Elvish damsels at that."

"Well, why not?"

"It is not seemingly; besides, her father, lord Elrond, is a great father and protector. I cannot just steal his only daughter away!"

"Sure you can! The big question is, do you want to? And if you don't, give me a good reason."

"Elrond should be reason enough," Gimli muttered.

"Well, what can I do about it?" Aragorn asked.

"He won't let you marry Arwen at all? Have you asked him?"

"Twice. He has refused me both times, for the sake of his daughter."

"Her sake? So! It all goes back around to what the males think is best for the females! Not one iota of choice involved for the woman! Poor Arwen! Listen, why don't you guys just sod the rules and play at being bad boys for an entire day?"

"Is that fair to Arwen?"

"She wants you just as much, Aragorn, don't think I'd say this just to convert y'all to the American mindset. Arwen's a female. She's got passions. But she's too polite to let that bad girl out. It's okay! But you'd fulfill all her fantasies if you swept her off her feet for one day. Every woman dreams about being swept off her feet by a handsome guy. And I'm sure you dream about doing it."

"Well…I do dream about taking her for a walk along the lakes at night."

"Okay, that does it. Your education in relationships starts today. Here, listen to this."

"What is it?"

"An iPod. I suggest some Barry White, but feel free to shift through whatever puts you in the mood. When you're done with that, I'll fill you in on Shakespearian sonnets, and then we'll move on to dancing and personal hygene," Adelaide added, wrinkling her nose. "And clothes and manliness. The stuff that makes you manly, like what a woman wants and what she expects in a real man. You're going to be a regular Romeo when we're done, okay?"

"Very well," Aragorn said, a bit embarrassed, as he listened to Michael Bolton belting out, "When a Man Loves a Woman."

"We'll talk later about how to impress daddy-O. Now, let me see. Oh, yeah, who's next? Boromir! Good old Boromir! Tell me about Gondor, and Minas Tirith!"

"Do you not know much already?" he asked—slyly, in everyone's opinion, but Adelaide shook her head vigorously.

"Sure I do. But I've never seen it, and words can only portray the beauty of a thing insofar as words go. Tell me about your home; I've never been there."

"Gondor is a beautiful place. The land is stretched out for miles, and the surrounding countryside basks in the shade of the mountains. Minas Tirith is a jewel of the realm…" He went on and on for quite some time, speaking of his father, brother, people, army, weapons, etc. You get the idea.

"And one day, you shall come to Gondor as my personal guest," said Boromir, his eyes shining. "Then you shall see that it is indeed a great and wonderful place! My father would welcome you heartily, if I were with you," he added hastily. "My father does not approve of women like you. No offense meant," he added again, hastily. "I myself am only warming to your strange garb and tongue. I find that you are the easiest woman to talk to yet. The others are always giggling or playing games, and sometimes—in fact, most of the time—they sew and cook. They are quite gentle, and without a lot of...of...how do I say this politely?"

"I think the term you want is 'life.' Anyone who sits inside and sews all day long hasn't got a life."

"But you! You are different. You laugh and run around and play as if you were a child, and yet you hold your own so well. And the men of Rohan reported that you were taught the skill of a blade, and that you ride horses as well."

"Yup. I had a good time."

"I can tell that you have been trained. And you spoke to us about your education. You are most learned in many aspects of life, and yet you still retain the sweet and gentle nature of a woman. I find it easy to be around you. But my father would object, if I were not there," said Boromir. "I'm afraid he doesn't like you."

"Oh? He's never met me. How'd he know whether or not he likes me?"

"I'm afraid that he believes you to be some kind of witch, or enchantress. He distrusts anyone who seems to be from a land outside of Gondor. Perhaps he sees you as a trick of the Enemy."

"Apparently, he wasn't the only one to have thought so."

"Yes, we have heard of your treatment at the hands of the Elves." Boromir's eyes flickered to Legolas, who turned a shade redder and clenched his fists angrily. "It is a shame that you could not have popped up in our land, for there you might have been treated with more respect."

Adelaide, even though she nursed a grudge against the Elves, was stung by the way this man flaunted disrespect in front of Legolas. It was almost as if Boromir were trying to seek her favor by throwing dirt on the Elf, and despite her earlier behavior towards the Prince of Mirkwood, Adelaide saw no reason why the others should take part in her quarrel.

"Yeah, well, the world of men wasn't exactly all nice about it either," Adelaide said smoothly. "It took a while for them to accept me for who I was. Same thing with the hobbits. That's to be expected when you're from a different universe. I don't worry, Boromir. There's more things in life to sweat over than someone who thinks you're a witch. I'm not, and so your dad can just stew in his own opinion. Personally, I don't really care."

"In that case, I shall someday personally escort you to Gondor, my lady, and you shall heartily enjoy a month there! If you see no need to worry..."

Adelaide laughed. "That sounds as good as three years in Hawaii. Just let your dad know ahead of time that I'm coming. What's to do in Gondor?"

"Oh, many things, lady. You would enjoy the—"

Adelaide held up a hand. "Okay. Before this goes any further. Stop calling me 'lady.' All of you. This is stupid. I have a name, and I'd prefer it if you used it. Thanks. Now, what would I enjoy, Boromir?"

"The sights," the man stammered. "Gondor is rich in history. I may take you riding to see the vast kingdom, and surely you would enjoy visiting the gardens and the lakes…" he drifted off. Adelaide chuckled.

"It ain't Disneyland, is it? That's okay, I don't mind. Although I hear Gondor has a hell of a library. I'd like to see that."

"You shall have days on end to study all the scrolls and books to your heart's contentment, maid."

"And, like, we could go for picnics. You like picnics?"

"Er…"

"I'll teach you how to fly a kite, too. And hide-and-seek. Football. Dude, you could start a football team!"

"Adelaide," Aragorn said gently. "Such things are not for us."

"What, football? It's a man's sport, you idiots."

"And a lady will teach us?"

"Hey, what did I say about the 'lady' business? Besides, somebody has to teach you. I mean, how else are you going to learn? And what do you mean, it's not for you? You guys will love it."

"_I_ want to learn it," Boromir enthusiastically put in his two cents. "If you want to come to Gondor and teach us everything about your world, Adelaide, by all means, come and do it!"

"Well, if your dad will approve. I thought you said he wouldn't like it."

"Ah, but he will see how good these things are, and he shan't refuse me. I'm his favored son, his eldest, and he'll simply have to see that I mean well, and you will do all things correctly."

"Egads, in that case, I'd better give your old man the show of a lifetime, eh?"

No more was said that noontime, but later on, when they had hiked some more, and were resting, Adelaide went on with her inspections of the other races. Legolas was the one to speak next. In his soft voice, he started with the creation of the Elves, and spoke feelingly of his own race, the Silvan Elves. According to him, the trees were home, the Elves disliked orcs and other foul things, and they had a passion for the sea, which was kindled when they heard the cry of a gull. Adelaide was skeptic.

"I don't get it," she said. "This was what always confused me with Tolkien. Haven't you ever seen the sea?"

"Never."

"Pathetic. You should go and see it before you decide to sail over it. Do Elves get sea-sick at all? You've been on land for over two-thousand years. You should build up your sea-legs before getting involved with sailing."

"But how am I to do that, other than sailing?" Legolas smiled. "I have never seen the sea, lady, but I am told that it is vast and beautiful. It heralds power and holds within it mysterious secrets and allurements. It kindles a yearning in our hearts to journey forth and seek Valinor."

"I'm still confused. Do you mean, like, the Elves get this urge to travel? But then why don't you want to go see the sea now? Beaches are the most fun places, and swimming? Heck, get me out there! I love the sea. I could totally go swimming right now, if there were any water nearby."

"I have gone swimming on numerous occasions," Legolas admitted. "But I'm afraid that is not why I want to see the sea. We Elves must pass over soon. The time for us is nearly over."

"How come?" asked Adelaide. "I don't get it. You guys should at least stay as long as you feel like it."

"The time of men has come," said Legolas. "We Elves are feeling the ages of many years upon us, and in order to keep that feeling of youth, so to speak, we pass over to Valinor."

"But couldn't you just stay here, anyway?"

"It would not be the same," said Legolas.

"That doesn't make any sense. You're a freeborn creature. You have the right—"

"I am descended from the Firstborn, lady, and have an inner longing for the halls of Mandos. I was created for that. I have not the right to remain here while my kin travels, unless I seek the mortal path of life, and I do not seek it…not with the same energy and love that the Lady Undomiel does, with all due respect to the lord Aragorn."

"Who wants to live forever?" Adelaide threw up her hands. "Mortality's the way to go, man."

"But lady, that is the path of death! Are you so eager for it?"

"Hell, no one's eager for death, but I can't say as an immortal life suits me. I mean, really, doesn't it seem a little off-kilter, to watch the ages pass like rippling streams in a brook, and feeling yourself placed outside of time? I'd get all jittery. I was meant for something else, you know. But that's a human for you. Go on. What about sailing? It doesn't make any sense, to go over to a place you've never seen, just because men are coming in. I guess in a way I can understand it, but all the same...is it like a sort of migration issue?"

"Migration?" Legolas looked offended. "Lady, migration is for beasts of instinct. The Elves follow the call in their hearts."

"Whoa, sorry," Adelaide put her hands up. "Sounds all the same to me. I'm just a mortal; I can't comprehend something like that. It's new for me."

"Think of it this way," Gandalf offered. "You spoke to me once, a long time ago, about how your world runs on its economy. New things are ever being made, and the old must push aside for the new. Do you remember?"

"Yeah, we were talking about cell phones and iPods."

"And remember what you said?"

"I think so. Didn't I say that people in America were interested in the fast and compact, and so iPods, cell-phones and DVD's were in their best interest? And so the old had to fade away to take the place of the new. But it's like that for a lot of things," Adelaide added hesitantly.

"And so it is with the Elves. Their time is over. They cannot stay in Middle Earth while the time of Men draws near."

"But that's different. I mean, iPods and cell phones are mechanical; Elves and humans are living, breathing beings. In that case, you could make the argument that there's nothing useful to the lives of Elves. But isn't there? I mean, you know, don't the Elves help the environment? And what about dwarves and hobbits?" she asked. "And the orcs and everyone else? Will the men shove them out too?"

"Not at all," Aragorn replied, smiling. "The orcs, perhaps, yes, but dwarves and hobbits will keep to themselves. They do not interfere with the doings of men, and so we shan't meddle with them either. Life will move on in the Shire and in the delvings of dwarves as it always has."

"Seems a little sad," Adelaide observed. "Feels like the good old days are over. Argh, I never liked that part of the book."

"But lady, you are here as an immortal," Legolas pointed out. "A mortal, perhaps, in your own country, but here, time has slowed for you. Do you not feel restless now? Do you not want to travel home?"

Adelaide bit her lip and looked a little puzzled. "I think I did at one point, but now I'm not sure. Middle Earth is kind of growing on me, and so is everyone else. I mean, every so once in a while I miss Burger King and a good Italian Cream Soda, and I miss talking to people on my cell phone, and I miss school and stuff, but I mean…I'm okay with it all."

"You do not miss your home as much as you once did?" Gandalf asked. "Adelaide, there must be something wrong with your head."

"Argh, I know. No, seriously, I do miss home…but I mean, not as much as I used to because I've become so fond of everything and everyone here. Sort of like a second home. If I were suddenly zapped back now, I'd feel…I don't know, I'd feel unfulfilled, somehow."

"And the same thing goes for the Elves," Aragorn says. "If they had passed over to Valinor long ago, they would feel unfulfilled. But now their time has come. So all things must come to pass, Adelaide. The story carries on, but Legolas' part will cease very soon."

"Oh." Adelaide tried to look disappointed. "I'm sorry about that."

Gandalf observed Adelaide closely. She wasn't smiling anymore, and her heart seemed to be troubled.

"Well," he interrupted. "This really is very nice, but we must be off once again. I only meant for us to stop for a short time. You can finish your talk later. Let us head onward, ever South!"

They all marched onward, Gandalf leading them, and behind him came Frodo, then Gimli, Merry and Pippin, Legolas, Sam and Bill, Adelaide, Boromir, and Aragorn. The day came on to be quite sunny, despite the ominous rain-clouds that lurked in the distance. Clouds soon gathered however, and so the Fellowship sought shelter under some rocks. As they huddled together, Adelaide felt Frodo touch her hand, and then her thigh, and she gratefully wrapped her arm around him, thankful for his touch and warmth. Pretty soon, she felt his head on her shoulder underneath the small blanket that they shared. She laid her head on top of his and both fell asleep. When they awoke, it was the morning of a new and beautiful day. Sam was already cooking breakfast along with Gimli, Gandalf was smoking his pipe and looking thoughtful, and Aragorn was watching Boromir teaching Pippin and Merry how to handle a sword. Legolas was looking out over the horizon for something. Frodo shook Adelaide.

"Wake up," he said. "It's morning."

Adelaide yawned, stretched, and rubbed her eyes. "How long have we been asleep?" she asked. Frodo shrugged. "You've been asleep for a while, and they didn't want to wake you," he said kindly. "But it's best now if you come and get some breakfast, my lass."

"Don't know if I want it, but okay," she yawned again and then gave a warm, satisfied sigh of contentment as Frodo met her lips in a sweet kiss. "My, you're playful today," she teased. Frodo grinned.

"Did you hear what Boromir said? He thinks I'm your guardian. What do you think of that, my little mushroom?" He moved to fondle her breast, but she gently put his hand aside and kissed his lips of her own accord, finding a pleasurable fulfillment in the sweetness of his arms and mouth.

"I think you're in trouble if you don't let me get my nutrients for the day, you little scoffer."

Frodo smiled and swatted her thigh playfully. Adelaide tossed off the blanket, moving out and following him for breakfast and wash. She stretched herself more fully, and then washed her face at the brook. Her hair was feeling like a mess, so she took out a small bottle of shampoo and began lathering her hair up. As she bent over, hands full of suds, she became aware of a presence behind her. Turning slightly, craning her neck around, she saw none other than Legolas.

_Oh, Lord God Almighty_.

Adelaide rolled her eyes.

"It's not polite to sneak up on a woman who's trying to wash her hair," she said dryly.

"Ah, so you CAN talk!"

"Funny. Do you mind? I'm busy." She was not exactly prepared for him, nor was she planning to talk to him. But he gently leaned down, bathed his hands in the little stream, and then looked into Adelaide's eyes.

"You have slept for a while," he remarked. "It is a beautiful day out already, and the sun is shining."

"Yup." Adelaide rinsed her hair and rolled it up in her towel.

"It is too fine a day to be wasted on sleep."

"I'm up, aren't I?"

"Will you not come with me for a small walk? For I would have you know me better. I fear that you did not trust me or have good feelings regarding me in Rivendell."

"What makes you think talking to me about it will make a difference?"

"Because it might strengthen our friendship," Legolas said lightly. "It would perhaps heal any disagreements that you do not care for."

"Forget it."

"You are not willing to be my friend for the sake of the Fellowship?" asked Legolas softly. "You are not willing to give me a fair chance?"

His words bit and stung deep. Adelaide bit her lip. Damn, but the Elf had placed her in a very difficult position. She turned her head from him and looked off toward the North, from whence they had all come. She thought about home and what she would give for being away from this Elf, from all Elves, and Middle Earth. Her fists tightened. Was it a challenge he had offered her? Or was it a dare? She had not ever declined either of those propositions. But she was willing, she supposed, to try and listen.

"Okay, you win. But get this, Elf-boy; you're not particularly near and dear to my heart right now, so don't try anything weird. Get the picture?"

"Perfectly," said Legolas.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere around here; would you like to lead the way?"

Adelaide leaped up as Legolas slowly got to his feet. He stood a good four inches above her, but his outline was framed by the morning sun, and she fancied that she could smell something about him, like wine, or something of the like. He offered her his arm, but she ignored it and walked on, around the big boulder which had been a shelter.

"You do not like me," Legolas said after a moment.

"Ooh, aren't we smart."

"May I ask why?"

"It's a free country, last I checked."

"Is it anything to do with how my kin treated you upon your arrival in Middle Earth?"

She flushed from head to foot.

"Good guess, you win the lottery. What do you think about that?"

"I think you are rather foolish, to hold such a grudge."

"I think you're a fucking bull to say it."

"Lady, your speech stirs my heart and hurts my head at the same time."

"Look, I can swear in German too, so don't push my buttons. I came on the walk to get to know you. Tell me about your kin, Elves, anything, but hurry up, and then shut your trap. I don't want to listen to you."

"You said you would give me a fair chance."

"All you're doing is arguing with me about why I'm mad about you."

"I want to know."

"I just told you."

"But is it only that which makes you angry? You have made friends, I know, with the Lord Elrond and those of his house. I think it is unfair of you to carry so much hatred against one such as myself, who has done naught to harm you. Indeed, I think something else concerns you, lady."

"Look, the only thing concerning me at the present moment is this stupid 'lady' business! Get off it, okay? I have a name, and it's okay to use it! I give you permission!"

"Lady, lady—"

"You're as dumb as a penny-hen. What exactly do I have to do to get you to call me by my name, huh? What do you want?"

"Only friendship, Lady," he responded, spreading his arms and extending his hands out slightly, in humble recognition. Adelaide suddenly felt a hateful wrath blaze up in her heart for him, he was hateful because he was so good; hateful because he wanted only her friendship; hateful because he was an Elf, and she did not like Elves; hateful because she willed him to be hateful. Her hand flew up to strike him, but he caught her hand and with a force that could hardly be matched against any others, lowered it to her side. Adelaide jerked her hand away and glared at him. Legolas only smiled.

"So it would seem, my lady," he said. "I have truly made you angry, have I not? Yet that was not my intention. Forgive me. And give me your friendship. That I would value above all others, for you are fair to look upon, and your breast contains a wild dragon to be tamed only through time and love."

"Look, this is really stupid," Adelaide smoldered inside. "You won't benefit by me, you stupid Elf! You don't seem to get it. I don't want to be friends with you. I hate you. I hate your kin. If you want my friendship, you're getting the cell-corner of it."

"It will not matter if I do not gain anything; I will have it there, in my heart," said the Elf, smiling. Then he turned, and walked away. Adelaide stood as she had, teeth and hands clenched, her whole body rigid, and her breast heaving with indignation. She was so mad that the roots of her hair had dried already, and sweat was rolling down her cheeks.

_Ooooooooo! Why couldn't you have just sent him sprawling in the stream! You didn't even bother to think about it, did you? _

She wiped her face off, washed it again, and came back to see what the rest of the Company was doing. Frodo and Sam were watching Pippin and Merry fight with Boromir, who was giving them a few lessons in swordplay. Aragorn was also watching, and he smiled every so once in a while, giving out small hints here and there.

"Move your feet!" he called to Merry, who was fighting with his feet firmly planted on the ground. Merry took this advice, and soon nearly had Boromir pinned. But the great man twisted, and he was out of their reach again. Merry came on at Boromir again, and the great man defended himself playfully before accidentally wounding the poor hobbit. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried. Merry ran up and kicked him in the stomach, while Pippin pounced on him. They brought the great man down, and rolled with him, wrestling like a father and his two sons, while Aragorn and Adelaide watched and laughed. Meanwhile, Gimli and Gandalf were in a discussion.

"If anyone was to ask my opinion, which I know they're not, I'd say we were going the long way 'round the mountain! Gandalf! We could go through the Mines of Moria! My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!"

"No, Gimli," said Gandalf, as if the words pained him. "I would not go through the mines unless it were absolutely necessary."

Boromir and the hobbits rolled on the ground a bit more, before suddenly they heard a strange noise. Adelaide looked up. A raincloud was advancing upon them in spite of the beautiful rays of the sun. She strained her eyes. It was not a raincloud; it was something else! Composed of little pieces, like a puzzle, the…er, thing was advancing.

"What is that?" asked Sam.

"Bah! It's just a whisp of cloud!" snorted Gimli.

"It's moving fast," said Boromir. "Against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" cried Legolas, who had been watching the cloud. At that, the Company scurried to hide, finding rocks, shrubs, or otherwise to conceal them. Sam put out the campfire. Things were packed away, and the pony was hidden from sight. Everyone lay still. It was not a few moments later that black birds swarmed about the little place, flying everywhere and trying to seek out everything. Adelaide was afraid that they might see them. But eventually the birds went away, and all was quiet again. A heavy mist had settled over the Company, and the fear and dread of Isenguard was now awakened in their hearts. Sauruman was now watching the South Passage. It was no longer safe for the Company to continue their route. The only thing left to do was to climb up into the mountains themselves, and climb over them, where the danger was less. But of all the travelers, only a few truly knew of the dangers of mountains. Adelaide in particular knew about the dangers; she had climbed the mountains of Alaska, and knew where dangers lurked. The higher you went, the colder it was to be, and the more prone to snowstorms the mountains were. And not just little snowstorms. These were mighty blizzards, that could freeze even a grown man to death, much more a tiny hobbit. They had not exactly come in their winter gear (Adelaide later joked that she did not have her "Columbia Winter Sportsjacket" with her), and the hobbits had no shoes or boots to keep their feet warm, if at all they were needed. But Gandalf himself was encouraging the mountains, and since Adelaide knew that no one would perish, it didn't seem like there was any other choice.

They hiked to the roots of the mountain, and there began their ascent to the top. It was tough work climbing up and up, sometimes even straight up the side of a craggy cliff. And the work was painfully slow. Every so once in a while there was a small trail for the Company to follow, and then there was easier work there. The snow was deep, and sometimes the hobbits had to be carried, Aragorn bearing Frodo, Merry being carried by Boromir, Pippin by Adelaide, and Sam riding on Bill (all the hobbits took turns on Bill, by the way). The sun was shining, and spirits were high. Adelaide even scooped up a snowball and threw it at the back of Aragorn's head. He turned around swiftly, and she put on a very innocent face.

(Later, as they rested, she made ten little snowmen and placed them in the snow gravely, to mark the site. Aragorn asked, "Adelaide, what on earth are you doing?"

"That's us," she replied. "See, the one with the hat is Gandalf, the four small ones are the hobbits, that short fat one is Gimli, and this one is Boromir—his shield is falling apart there—and here's the Elf."

"What's that tall, dilapidated-looking one?"

"Oh, that's you.")

They finally made it to the tops of the mountains by the evening, where they stopped to rest near a craggy overhang. Sleep doled on the Company, but each told themselves that to sleep was to die. One by one, they comforted themselves with body heat, resting for a while, and then switching. Adelaide and Gandalf took care of the hobbits, while Boromir, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas did their best to warm each other. Gandalf passed about a flagon of Rivendell cordial, which warmed them up, and then they started, painfully, onward. The storm seemed to have a minimum affect on Legolas. The Elf was practically walking on top of the snow. Adelaide wished that he would fall over.

Snow began to fall rapidly. The path narrowed, and then broadened. The Fellowship made its way from one part of the mountain to the next, where there was more sunshine, and the snow was not so deep. It was on this occasion that Frodo stumbled, fell, and lost the Ring.

Boromir picked it up, but he did not hand it directly back to Frodo. He stared at it for a very long time, almost in a trance-like state, until he finally spoke.

"How very strange it is that we should suffer so much for this…thing. Such a little thing," he said, his eyes soft and yet hungry.

"Boromir!" snapped Aragorn. "Give the Ring back to Frodo."

Boromir came out of his state and suddenly stretched out his hand with the Ring. "As you wish," he said lightly. Frodo snatched it from him, and Boromir smiled. "I care not." A deep struggle showed upon his face. He ruffled Frodo's hair, and the hobbit glared at him. Then Adelaide came up behind Frodo as the others moved off, she fastened the chain about his neck.

"I'm watching him, Frodo," she said. "Don't worry."

"Him taking the Ring is not my concern at the moment," the little hobbit said icily. Adelaide looked down at him, worry spreading upon her face. She'd never heard Frodo talk like that before. Still, she tried to make light of it.

"Well, at any rate, he's not too far gone. Now come on, we've got another peak to scale."

The Pass of Cahadras, as it was called, was supposed to be deadly. It was said that the mountain bore no good-will to men, dwarves, or Elves. Adelaide found it difficult to believe this, but as a snowstorm hurriedly gathered, and thrust out upon the Company, she began to have second thoughts. Frodo was huddling close to Gandalf, while Merry and Pippin clung to Boromir and Aragorn. Legolas just walked upon the snow, blinking in the wind, and seeming to mind it all not a bit. Adelaide huddled next to Gimli and Sam, who was still leading faithful old Bill. The snow was falling rapidly, cheeks and noses were turning blue, and Adelaide had to painfully shake Gimli or Sam several times to make sure that they did not fall asleep.

"There is a fell voice in the air!" cried Legolas suddenly. Adelaide groaned. What now? More birds? But no; over the snowstorm, she could hear a terrifying, deep-chested voice, slithering and yet bold. It was not exactly a happy voice.

"It's Sauruman!" cried Gandalf.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" roared Aragorn.

Just then, a torrent of snow fell upon the Fellowship, nearly burying them. Gandalf waved his staff and commanded the Mountain to be still, and to listen only to his voice. But apparently Sauruman was winning this little game; the mountain was ready to bury them all, it seemed! Another torrent of rocks and snow plummeted down upon the Fellowship, this time burying them securely under the snow. Adelaide and Legolas were the first ones to pop up, then Gandalf, Aragorn, and Boromir, who all helped the hobbits out. Gimli came up from underneath the snow, sitting in it and looking very much like a fat old toad, or at least Santa Claus.

"We must turn back!" cried Aragorn.

"No!" cried Gandalf. "On, on!"

"We should take the paths to Gondor!" said Boromir. "This will be the death of the hobbits! We should turn back, and make for the gap of Rohan!"

"The gap of Rohan leads us too close to Isenguard!" snapped Aragorn.

"No!" cried a voice, and there was Gimli. "We cannot go around or over the mountain! Let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!

The Company was silent for a moment. Gandalf seemed to be considering it all. Adelaide knew that for one thing, Gandalf and Aragorn had both been to the mines before, and neither of them wished to return. The dwarves had, in the olden days, stirred up fire, and an evil demon of fire, and the like. Certainly Legolas would not want to go there, Adelaide thought hopefully. But there was no turning back. The Company had to go forward, no matter what. All of them needed to be true.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," said Gandalf. Frodo looked up at him. Fire and warmth sounded good to him; it was rather a dumb question when you're half-frozen.

"We will go through the mines," he said, teeth chattering.

Gandalf nodded. "So be it."


	21. Giant Squids and Spooky Hallways

Chapter 22

Giant Squid and Spooky Hallways

They traveled on under the sunless sky, moving ever downwards from the mountain. When at last they touched bottom, there was a slight feeling of nausea in everyone's head; the change of altitude does that to a body, you know. When they all felt safe enough, they moved onwards to the Mines of Moria. Gandalf knew the way, as well as Gimli and Aragorn, so the rest of the Company followed. Here under the shadows of the mountains, there was no light, and the rays of the moon cast little light on their path, though at times a moonbeam would reach their weary backs as if to comfort them. But it did little to improve the mood. Legolas, for one, was a little upset to be going underground "like a burrowing mole," and Sam was debating heavily about whether or not he would have to leave his beloved Bill behind. Frodo did not say much at all, and neither did Pippin or Merry, but Gimli bubbled on and on about the wonders and achievements of the dwarves and Moria. Adelaide listened intently, but when Gimli came to a part of the Elves' and Dwarves' "former friendship," Legolas said, with some heat:

"It is not the fault of the Elves that the friendship waned."

"Well, it wasn't the fault of the dwarves, either!" snapped Gimli. "You Elves are overly-confident, thinking yourselves so high and mighty, but you know nothing of Moria, and you will soon see that I do not lie in what I am telling you about it."

Legolas was about the thrash out another retort when Gandalf turned around swiftly.

"I have heard both arguments before," he said. "But I beg you both, Legolas and Gimli, to be friends, at least. I shall need you both."

The Elf and dwarf glared darkly at each other.

Adelaide put her hand on Gimli's shoulder. "Tell me about the…uh, minerals," she said. "Anything worth delving for?"

"Lass, you can depend on that!" said Gimli. Legolas glared at him again. "There was gold and silver, and copper and other precious metals of the earth. We mined the crystals and jewels, and then made them into beautiful treasures for the world to see!"

"And then Smaug got it," said Adelaide. "I read all about that. Let me see if I can name all the dwarves. Let's see: Gloin, Dori, Nori, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bombur, Kili, Fili, Oin, Thorin Oakshield, Ori, and…and…I can't remember the last one. Who was the other guy?"

"Bofur," said Gimli. "It was Bofur."

"Right! So then you came up to Bilbo's house trying to find a 'professional burglar,' and you came up with the best one!"

"I wasn't there," said Gimli. "It was my father, Gloin. I was thought too young to go. And I was only sixty!"

"Did you have a full beard by then?" Adelaide teased.

"Not quite."

"Did your dad tell you a lot about it?"

"He did indeed. He told me almost everything he could about Bilbo and our adventures…particularly the ones in Mirkwood," the dwarf said loudly. Legolas gritted his teeth. "Did you know about that, Adelaide?"

Adelaide didn't want to be in the middle of an Elf/Dwarf argument. "I did," she said carefully. "But you got away in the water-tubs. That's one of my favorite scenes. Bilbo got you out of everything!"

"He did not!" interrupted Gandalf. "He was a smart hobbit, and I of course give him credit for his brave deeds, but you forgot about me."

"You were always disappearing," laughed Adelaide. "But you always popped up at the most dire needs again, so, hey, I give you credit anyway."

The wizard chuckled. "It was the best adventure, you say? I myself had an interesting time myself, besides having to deal with stubborn dwarves and a very timid hobbit."

"But Bilbo proved himself to be pretty good," protested Adelaide. "And the dwarves weren't all that bad. Neither was Beorn or the Lakemen. And I totally I loved Gollum," she added, as an afterthought.

Frodo nearly fell over. "You _what?_"

"I thought Gollum was totally the coolest bad guy since Darth Vader. Seriously, he wasn't anything particular, he was just a small slimy creature living among the roots of the mountains. That's totally cool. Gollum always gave me adrenaline rush. 'Cause, it's like…he's just sort of there. He's not of any particular race; he's just there. Kind of made me wonder what his parents were like, and if Gollums were a kind of breed, or something…ugh, it was so gross, but so cool! And he must've held some pretty awesome conversations with himself. I felt sorry for him, you know, because he was all alone. He's a bad guy, but not a bad guy, you get it? I guess all he wants is a little pity and a little care. I think he's totally cool."

"I had no idea you thought him interesting," Gandalf said, astonished. "Otherwise I might have brought you along with me when I found and questioned him."

"That would have been awesome! Gollum rocks my world. That chapter, _Riddles in the Dark_, is my favorite. I've got it memorized."

"You have not!" Merry was astounded.

"I do so. I can rattle it off for you sometime, if you like. I loved Bilbo's story."

"It was the first Mr. Tolkien ever wrote, wasn't it?" asked Pippin.

"He was an awesome author. If he was still alive, I'd go all the way to England and get his autograph."

"But you had to settle for Bilbo's," chuckled Gandalf.

"Hey, never refuse the goods."

"I cannot understand why you should enjoy such stories," Legolas said. "A young lady is not supposed to—"

"But I do, so there," Adelaide flared. A nasty imp made her turn devil. "And by the way, why did your dad imprison those poor dwarves? I could never figure that out. That didn't seem right to me."

"My father bid it necessary," said Legolas. "We were not on friendly terms with dwarves, and certainly not dwarves who wander through our land and disturb us at a time of peace and celebration. Thorin would give no reason for his conduct."

"But he did!" protested Adelaide. "He said he was starving."

"But then why was he in the woods in the first place?"

"That's his business, he didn't have to tell you."

"Ah, but he could have. He was just being stubborn."

"But why would you want to disbelieve them?" Adelaide shot back. "It doesn't seem very hospitable to just demand explanations when they're none of his business anyway. Besides, you have to admit, once your father did find out about their intentions, he ended up getting himself involved anyway! I think Thorin's idea was to leave the Elves out all the way."

"And the men too," said Gimli. "But they got involved."

"Well, now I can't blame the men too much. I mean, they did treat the dwarves well, and they also killed Smaug, so I can see where they would politely ask for a bit of the treasure. I think Thorin was a little greedy on that account."

"I'm not denying that," Gimli said. "Of all the dwarves, Thorin was very stubborn, and loved gold more than anything else, and though he might have been more generous, he paid for his greediness. I do miss him though," he remarked sadly. "He was a good dwarf, and wise in many regards."

"Thorin was cool," Adelaide agreed, but Legolas looked away and muttered to himself. Gimli rounded on him.

"No need to mumble, pointy-ears, say it out loud so we can hear you!"

Gandalf intervened again. "This is perhaps a subject that would best be left alone," he said. "The dwarves and Elves are not friendly with each other, Adelaide. I have told you that before. And you, Gimli and Legolas, that was a grief of long ago. I suggest you both put it to the side, and be friends."

The Elf and the dwarf glared at each other again, but Adelaide just shut her mouth and decided to talk about it later.

Boromir turned. "If this is the path to Moria, I wonder what the place itself is like?" he muttered. Adelaide didn't answer him. No one dared make any more sound. Even Gimli was silent, and all that could be heard was the sound of their feet along the way. The way was dark, and the moon was becoming scarce.

"Dwarf doors are invisible to everyone, or when closed." remarked Gimli on the way in. "And they can only be seen by the light of a full moon."

"Yes, Gimli," returned Gandalf. "Their own masters cannot see them if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't _that_ surprise me?" muttered Legolas. He was still sore over their argument.

Now up ahead, Gandalf beckoned for Frodo. "Frodo! Come and help and old man," he said, wearily leaning against his staff. Frodo came up and put his arms around the "old man" as best he could, trying to support him. Gandalf looked down at him, however, intent on making conversation about a rather tender subject.

"How's you're shoulder?"

"Better than it was," Frodo replied. "I can feel its strength coming back, although it feels a little light."

"And…the Ring?"

Frodo was silent.

"You feel its power, don't you, Frodo? I've felt it too." Gandalf looked weary. "You must be careful now. Evil will be drawn to you from the outside of the Fellowship, and a fear within."

Frodo turned slightly and saw what Gandalf might have been hinting at: Boromir. The man was downright spooky to the little hobbit, though he said nothing.

"Whom then do I trust?" he asked Gandalf.

"You must trust yourself," said Gandalf. "Trust your own strength. You will find a way, Frodo."

Frodo stepped along with Gandalf, trying not to think about how to find that strength. It seemed nearly impossible. Long ago, Gandalf had felt that Bilbo had strength, hidden within, and he had been right. But now? The situation was quite different, and Frodo felt as if he would never accomplish his goal. Strength? Maybe after elevenses. He looked back at Adelaide, and then tugged on Gandalf's cloak.

"What about her?"

"Well?"

"May I trust her?"

"It is up to you to decide that," Gandalf said gently. "Is she trustworthy? Is she faithful to your cause? That is something you must decide before you make any decisions concerning courting her. Yes, I know what you want; I know what you think about her! I am fond of her, too. But you must not burden her now with anything that might have an influence on her position. You both are in peril, she no less than you. Besides, she has many trials yet to endure. Oh, she's a sweet thing, alright, and I know she wants to be a wife and mother someday, but you must admit that she needs a bit of refinement."

Frodo nodded.

"She just needs to mature a little more, Frodo. She'll get there in her own time. Meanwhile, court her as you may, but for heaven's sake, don't propose until…well, I imagine you'll know when the time is right."

"Gandalf…do you even think I could marry her? She's human, and I'm a hobbit…and sometimes I feel as though she's far out of my league anyway."

"I can tell you what Adelaide would say to that, and it's one of her expletives. Do your duty now, Frodo, nothing more. Adelaide is fond of you for who you are and what you do. Ask no more of yourself now."

When at last the Company made their way into the view of the moonlight again, they had come to a great stone wall, at the foot of a mountain. The great sheen of rock sliced to the very top, so that Adelaide looked up and felt sick. A sandy "beach" and a dead tree lay calmly and ominously at the mouth of a murky lake, infested with God-only-knew-what. Stones littered the place, and there was the slight stench of the dead about. The odor was musty, still, and deadly. But no one else seemed to give heed to the stink, at least not Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, or the hobbits. Legolas' nose twitched, and his eyes grew dark in disgust, while Boromir gagged only once, and then ceased.

"This is the place," said Gandalf. "Yes, most certainly, this is it."

"This is what?" asked Adelaide.

"They way in, of course," said Gandalf patiently. "Don't you see the door?"

"What door?"

"The door of Moria!"

"Where?"

Gandalf, a little frustrated, pointed at the wall with his staff. Sure enough, Adelaide could see the dark outlines of a door and some other stuff.

"Well, that's dandy," she said. "But don't we have to have a magic word or something to get in, or at least see the words by the light of the moon? I think?"

"Well, for one who cannot see so clearly with those pretty blue eyes, you are certainly informed," chuckled Gandalf. "Here comes the moon now."

Sure enough, the moon was peeping through the clouds. Excitement welled up inside Adelaide's heart. This was so typical Tolkien, with his runes and maps and magic doors, that she could have jumped up and down and pounded Gandalf's back in sheer delight. The door had illuminated itself, and now she could see it clearly, outlined with beautiful blue lines, with Elf-runes, dwarf-symbols, and a picture of a tree. But no door-handles were to be seen. Adelaide couldn't remember the magic word, either. _Open sesame_, she thought jokingly, but that obviously wouldn't do it. This was Middle Earth, not the Arabian Nights.

Gandalf pointed out the runes and lines on the door. "Ithildin," he said. "A bit of lore for you, Adelaide. It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

Adelaide walked up and traced the symbols and letters with her finger. "Like, that is so totally cool," she said jovially. "What does it say?"

"Speak, friend, and enter."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, dear! If you are a friend, then you speak the password and the doors will open!"

"Great. So, who's got the password?"

Gandalf winked at her, stood back a ways, and lifted his hands, calling out in Elvish to the door in a commanding tone. Adelaide and the others waited. When nothing happened, Gandalf tried another spell.

"Wow. This is really, really exciting, guys."

"Adelaide Elspeth Genevieve Edessa, you zip it." Gandalf sounded cross.

"Gandalf! You used American slang!"

"Another word out of you, and I'll 'slang' you right into the lake," was the gruff reply.

Meanwhile, Aragorn was explaining to Sam that they could not take Bill. Sam was heartbokenly unloading the poor creature, while it nuzzled his ear. Sam tried desperately not to cry as the Company took some things and then bade the pony farewell. Sam watched him trot off into the gloom.

"I hope he finds his way home," he said tearfully. "And I hope that no nasty things get him!"

"Hey Sam, get over here and let's see if we can help Gandalf with the password. Who's up for hangman, guys?"

Merry picked up a stone and threw it into the water.

Gandalf tried several words, pressing his staff to the door, even shoving his body against it.

"I used to know all the spells of dwarves and Elves," grumbled Gandalf. "And yet this one exceeds my knowledge."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Pippin.

"Knock on the doors with your head, Peregrine Took, and if that does not shatter them, then perhaps I will be spared the nuisance of useless questions! I will try and find the way in."

"Well you'd better hurry up!" Adelaide said crossly. "Either you know it or you don't, Wizard-man!"

"Adelaide, I shall use you as a battering ram beside Pippin if you cannot hold your tongue, girl!"

Aragorn grabbed Merry as he tried to toss another stone. "Do not disturb the water!" he said softly. Already it seemed as if there were swift ripples, but no one seemed to see them.

"Wait a minute," said Frodo. He had stood up and come over to the door. Gandalf had thrown down his staff in desperation and frustration, but Frodo seemed to have an answer. "It's a riddle!" he exclaimed. Gandalf looked up. The ripples drew nearer to the shore, and the others drew closer to the door, all the better!

"Speak 'friend' and enter! What's the Elvish word for friend?" asked Frodo.

"_Mellon_!" answered Gandalf, and just as sure as God made green apples, the doors opened, and Adelaide found herself staring into the pit of nothingness (Actually, that's an exaggeration). The Company walked in.

The ripples drew closer.

"Soon, my Elf friend, you will be enjoying a warm welcome!" said Gimli, poking Legolas. "Roaring fire, malt beer, and red meat right off the bone! My cousin Balin lives here. And they call it a mine. A mine!"

"Gads, the service is lousy," coughed Adelaide. "It smells awful in here, Gimli!"

"Well, dwarves don't always have a bathtub on hand, maiden."

"This isn't B.O."

"This is no mine!" muttered Boromir. "It's a tomb."

At that moment, Adelaide moved forward, and her foot struck something. Looking down, she screamed. Loudly. Her foot was stuck in the rotting ribcage of a dwarf, spiders rushing about her ankle. The sound of her scream vibrated loudly, resounding off the walls and echoing back into passages unseen and unknown. From what light could reveal, the stone walls, floor, and staircase were rusted with blood, and the carcasses of dwarves were everywhere. The musty smell was thicker now, more than ever, and the smell of death lingered on each corpse; on the walls and each surrounding. Gimli gasped, and ran from one corpse to another, looking upon the ancient, dead faces of ones that he had known in life, and loved, besides. Aragorn drew his sword, prepared for action. Legolas ran over to a dwarf and grabbed a shaft from his heart.

"Goblin!" he pronounced, with a look of sick disgust and alarm.

"We should never have come here!" roared Boromir, as Adelaide latched onto him in a real panic.

The ripples drew closer.

Then, all of a sudden, thick black tentacles thrashed violently from the water, tangling and coiling towards the Company. They did not turn to see them in time, and Frodo was snatched up first. He gave a piercing scream, and immediately all attention was turned toward the lake. It was a boiling mass of black arms thrashing, feeling, and slithering. Sam was already trying to hack at the one that held his master, and Aragorn charged into the water to hack at another piece. Legolas stayed on the shore and shot arrows. Merry and Pippin did what they could with their little swords, while Gimli and Boromir slashed and maimed many of the great arms.

Frodo was coiled high into the air, screaming for mercy's sake. Below him, the creature showed its face, a hideous, skull-like mask with tightly-pulled features and baggy jaws. Those jaws opened wide, leaving Frodo to stare for a minute into a pink cavernous mouth and a long tongue. The tongue stretched out and coiled about the terrified hobbit, and then, proclaiming him worth eating, hoisted him higher like a Greek about to feast upon grapes. At that moment, Legolas shot an arrow at the creature; Aragorn slashed at the arm holding Frodo, and the hobbit fell. Aragorn caught him, while the monster recoiled. The Company ran to the doors of Moria, rushing inside to the call of Gandalf, "Everyone inside!"

The monster followed. For a minute, it was right upon Boromir's tail, and then he dogged inside, behind Adelaide. The monster followed, and then slammed the doors shut, trapping the Fellowship inside.

For a moment, no one moved. The sound of the slam wore off, and soon deadly silence (as well as that awful smell) surrounded the Company. Gandalf was the first to make a noise, as well as light up the place. With a little crystal that gave light at the top of his staff, he lit up the place. Dwarf bodies were piled everywhere. Gimli was weeping (sort of), and the hobbits were all very shaken. Only Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf remained as cool as cucumbers. Boromir looked agitated, if not a little scared, and Adelaide was plumb terrified. Hey, give her a break. It was enough to be surrounded by an awful smell, but to have a bunch of rotting corpses surrounding you; hey, that's something else. It didn't improve the mood of the Company.

"We have only one choice now," said Gandalf. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Stay close now! There are other things in this world, older and fouler."

Adelaide didn't even want to guess what those things were. "Oh my God, can't we try and dig our way out?" she whispered. Nobody even heard her, or if they did, they paid her no attention. So she followed them and tried to maintain a good position. She was not going to be afraid. So she watched for the hobbits. She could not see much or hear much. The winding darkness was ridiculous.

They climbed here and there among the stone hallways and stairs. Everything was foul, rotting, or crumbling. It was hard not to make too much noise. There was scattered earth and rock, and occasionally, a book would be left on the ground for someone to conveniently trip over. The darkness closed them in, hemming them out from all light and music; the time seemed so slow, although Adelaide had her watch. Day and night were hard to decipher. The constant silence, broken only by a scuffle of feet, was ominous and leering. Adelaide felt that something was lurking down in Moria; something deadly and nasty was lurking in the crevices and cracks. Webs hung from old machinery; spiders (little ones) crawled in and out of holes; mice scurried about, and no one spoke. The musty odor was unbearable. She stayed between Boromir and Aragorn, not wanting to fall behind, and also not wanting to be startled from behind.

Finally, Gimli began to speak a little about the Mine, and included in his speech a little about mithril, the wonderful mineral that could be pounded into something beautiful; light as feathering, but harder than steel. Adelaide smiled. She knew that Frodo had something made of mithril…

Someone touched her hand, and she jumped. Aragorn quickly stifled her would-be scream.

"It is only I," he said. "Walk with caution. The road is narrow, and crumbling at the edge. Do not _even_ think to scream, young lady," he added. Adelaide nodded, shakily, and let the man guide her from behind, her trusting hand holding onto his strong palm for dear life. After a minute or two more of walking, they started to climb a great staircase. It required the hobbits to crawl along, but the others walked up, guiding each other along in their pathways. Gandalf reached the top first.

"I have no memory of this place," he murmured.

Well, that was just great!

The little space divided off into several sections, each with a little doorway. Books and rocks were scattered, but thankfully (and to Adelaide's great relief) there were no dead dwarves. So it was here that the Company rested, Gandalf smoking his pipe, thinking, Merry and Pippin talking quietly, Boromir and Aragorn sitting together, Gimli hunched over in sadness, and Legolas sitting also alone, his eyes open, and his bow ready at hand. Frodo was sitting with Sam, comforting him over the loss of poor Bill. Adelaide walked around a bit, and then sat down, picked up a stick, and began to draw in the dust. She was amusing herself with a picture of a dog, when Legolas came over. She stifled a groan.

"Are you frightened?" he asked her, very calmly.

"No," she answered. "Should I be?"

"I was only concerned."

"Don't be. I can manage fine without your help."

Legolas shifted. "I am sorry for my tone of voice earlier over the dwarves," he said quietly. "I did not mean to argue with you."

"Look, Elf-boy, you meant to argue, and you know it. I don't care what you say; I still think your father acted very foolishly, to imprison the poor dwarves instead of being more hospitable. Maybe if he had acted nicer, Thorin would have told you everything. But you Elves don't care about that, do you?" she asked nastily. "You Elves don't care about how much you may hurt someone's feelings, do you? Whenever someone comes onto your precious realms, even by accident, your first thought is hostility. You don't seem to care about someone else, do you? Just because you're immortal and oh-so-perfect, you have to think you're above everything and everyone. So if you're so far removed from society, please just leave me alone, okay?"

Legolas stood up and walked away from her. Instead, he sat down over by Aragorn, who had moved away from Boromir, and began conversing with him in a low Elvish voice. It has been put here in English for your reading legibility.

"Aragorn, that maid hates me. What have I done?"

"Nothing as far as I can see, except ignore her request that you leave her alone."

"Leave her alone! But Aragorn, the maid is spiteful! I cannot even cross her path innocently without her wrinkling her little nose in disgust. Her tongue drips poison, and her teeth are like a viper's."

"Quite frankly, I don't blame her, after what your kin in Lothlorien did. They treated her shamefully, and you know this."

"Yes, but…but I feel there is something else."

"I think you want there to be something else. Have you tried talking to her?"

"She will say naught, only very deadly words."

"Well, then, I advise you to leave her be. Let her do as she chooses; she may come to like you in her own time."

Legolas stared off into the darkness. "I wish it were so now," he murmured. "I have never met a girl such as herself before. I wish to be friends with her, but she puts up such a wall of ice as is practically impenetrable. You must speak to her for me, Aragorn. She will not listen to me on any account. Talk to her; tell her I mean her no harm, and that I wish only for her friendship."

Aragorn looked at the Elf and groaned inwardly. He was afraid of this. Legolas was head-over-heels, and Adelaide herself was trying to keep from falling in love. Showing hatred was her one way to mask her feelings and push the Elf aside. It was obvious that the Company would soon have a very heavy problem on their hands if Adelaide and Legolas did not get along together. If that kind of behavior continued, there was sure to be some sparks, and Legolas could become sick out of love for her. That was not a good thing. An Elf could die of a broken heart, if the conditions were right, and the Company needed Legolas.

"Very well," he told Legolas. "I will speak to her. But you must remember that she may not listen to me."

He moved over to where Adelaide had resumed her picture of her dog. Quite out of hearing range of the others, he spoke to her quietly.

"Adelaide," he began. "I would like to mention something."

"And _I_ would not like to hear _his_ complaints out of _your_ mouth."

"Will you be silent?" demanded Aragorn. "That will prove to be your downfall, maiden, if you continue such thoughts. Legolas indeed has asked me to speak to you, and believe me, if I didn't feel that a good talking-to would be beneficial for the sake of the Company, I would leave you to your quarrel with him. But he merely wants to know why you are so disagreeable."

"I thought I already told him. Do I have to tell him to fuck off as well?"

Aragorn restrained himself from grabbing her and shaking her. That would not do. "Maiden," he said very quietly. "For the sake of the Company, I would have you tell me."

"I already told you! I hate him! And I don't want to like him! I don't know the reason for that, exactly, but I won't do it, okay? Try to understand, alright?"

"Maiden, as far as I understand it, there is something more than just this grudge against the Elves," Aragorn said gently. "You're falling in love and you're shutting him out."

"Give me one reason why I should fall in love with an Elf. One reason, Ranger-man. Those yellow-haired golden-boys knifed me in Lothlorien, practically nearly all but beat me up, and didn't give a hot damn for what I was feeling. Give me one good reason why I should trust them...why I should love them." She turned her back on Aragorn and would say no more.

Aragorn rose and sat down over near Boromir, now definitely confused. How could one hate Elves? It seemed as if it was a little silly. Had she hated Elrond or Arwen? It had seemed as if the two girls were friends, and Elrond was like a father to Adelaide. But then, Rivendell Elves were much different than Lothlorien Elves, and their ways were different. It seemed as though Adelaide had a fear to overcome, but what a fear! Well, that was something that could only be cured by example, time, and patience. Having Legolas in the group would be good for both her and Gimli, who was also up tight about Elves.

Adelaide continued her drawing, and then looked up as Frodo approached her. She smiled at him and patted a stone.

"Pull up a stone and lean on it," she joked. "Why, what's the matter?" she asked, seeing his distracted face.

"Gollum," said Frodo. "That nasty wretch is about! Be careful, Adelaide, I don't want him throttling you in your sleep or off your guard."

"Gollum's about?" asked Adelaide. "I don't care. Let him sneak. He won't approach us if we stick together. He won't even try to strangle us in our sleep. We have two big men, a wizard, a keen Elf, and a very rumbling dwarf. Who would attack like that?"

"Nevertheless, I want you to be safe," scolded Frodo. "Honestly, Adelaide, sometimes you _do_ treat yourself as if your life wasn't worth much to you!"

Adelaide sighed, and dropped her stick. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry, Frodo. I just…I just feel that we're safe, that's all."

"You have no reason to think that," he said fiercely. "We're both in danger. You know too much, and I've got the…you know! With all the forces of—you know—on our backs, you think you're safe!"

Adelaide bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I didn't mean to be so careless. I forgot about our danger."

"Well, remember it," said Frodo, sitting next to her. "I care about you, at any rate, even if you think I don't."

"Why, I know you care, Frodo! Why shouldn't I?"

"Sometimes you don't act as though you know it," the hobbit was quite serious. "You think of me as a child, I think."

"Gads, anything but that, Mr. Fifty-year-old. You're good to me."

"Adelaide, I ought to be," Frodo said, feeling frustrated. "You know you—" he struggled for the right words; he wanted to tell her that she belonged to him, but no, not yet, not until she said yes... "You're special to me, Adelaide. I love you, truly I do. I care about you and want you to be safe. Are you feeling alright?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I just wondered. What was Aragorn talking to you about?"

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing that concerns you, at any rate."

"Adelaide, I have a right to know."

"No, you don't. Quit sticking your nose in issues that don't involve you."

"I'm waiting." Frodo glared at Adelaide. His suspicions were aroused, ever since he had seen the by-play between Legolas and Aragorn, and the Aragorn and Adelaide. He was not for certain, but a certain Elf might just very well be poaching on his preserves.

Adelaide turned and glared at him. "You'll be waiting a while," she snapped. "It's none of your business. I'm having some issues, is all, and I want his advice."

"Seems you want everyone's advice but mine," Frodo said bitterly. "Do you realize that ever since we left the Shire you've been 'Aragorn this,' and 'Aragorn that,' and 'I'm so happy to be around BIG PEOPLE again'? It's like you're not yourself anymore. All you do is 'take care of the hobbits.' We're not children!"

Adelaide's eyes squinched up, and her mouth parted slightly.

"Oh…Frodo, I…I'm sorry," she stammered slightly. "I didn't mean…it's…" she sighed. "I don't mean to treat you like children. I just want to help….I can't help it if I'm tall. Maybe the height difference is getting to you. But I promise, there's no reason for you to be concerned."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Adelaide's eyes grew very dark. She loved Frodo, but right now her nerves were shot. First Legolas, then Aragorn, and now Frodo! Her brow twitched in agitation, and then her hand moved slowly down to her side. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. But before she could strike, Frodo jumped up and moved away. He knew Adelaide too well to get hit. He had, for some reason, pushed her too far.

"Adelaide," he breathed. "What's wrong? You're not yourself at all."

She curled up in a fetal position, her chin on her knees, and her eyes peeping out at him sorrowfully and shyly. Frodo could never resist this look, and patted her back.

"It'll keep, then…you don't have to tell me all at once!"

She uncurled and smiled at him. "Gets you every time, love."

"You know I can't resist you," Frodo responded playfully. "Sometimes I think you're more of a temptation than the you-know-what."

"Is that so? Hm. I don't think you think; I think you know." She gave him a demure, inviting look. Frodo forgot all about danger and moved in slightly to give her a kiss.

Suddenly, Gandalf looked up. "Ah!" he said, in cheerful recognition.

"Oh, shit."

"Frodo, good lord, you're getting bold."

Merry smiled. "He's remembered!"

"No," said Gandalf, as the Company followed him down a dark staircase. "But the smell is not so foul down this way. If anything, in Moria, if you've lost your way, always follow your nose."

"Like the Fruit Loops," mumbled Adelaide, below anyone's hearing range. She'd been looking forward to a kiss from her lover. But now they were passing through the narrow staircase, and the smell seemed to be lifting. Indeed, it was dark down the staircase, and Adelaide reached out and touched a hand—Aragorn's, she was sure—and allowed him to lead her down carefully, for he knew more about Moria than she did, and it would have been better for him to do the leading, along with Gandalf and Gimli. But then she saw a little hole of light, and a wonderful light it was! They were nearly through!

They came out into a little doorway, where a stone arc shaded their heads. One step...two steps…and Gandalf spread his arms.

"Behold! The Vast Halls of Balin!" he said. Adelaide's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She had seen Cathedrals over a hundred feet high, built of stone and with great walls and pillars to support that majestic weight, but she was sure that nothing could ever compare to this great wonder! They faced the long hall, supported by nearly a hundred great stone pillars, and paved with stones that seemed to twinkle with hidden jewels. Light steamed in from what holes could be made in that mine; though little could be seen, Adelaide could picture the dwarves busily mining and living here. It was a great, underground kingdom, and it was almost beautiful.

"Now there's an eye-opener, and no mistake," breathed Sam. Adelaide had to agree with that. Beside her, the others were looking at the great hall and admiring it: Gimli's eyes were nearly popping, and the hobbits' mouths were open to the limit. Legolas didn't seem to be too impressed, but that was an Elf for you. But he did seem a little awed by the grand vastness. It seemed almost beautiful, in a way. So they began their trek down that long hall.

Suddenly, Gimli gave a mighty shout and ran pell-mell over to one of the rooms.

"Gimli!" cried Gandalf, but he was already following the dwarf, and the others did as well. Stopping inside the great room, the dwarf had paused beside a great stone slab. It looked like a great stone coffin, or something of the nature, but Adelaide didn't like it. It was spooky. However, Gimli looked at it with an open mouth, and then burst into tears, falling on his knees at the foot of the slab. Gandalf dusted away the dust, and read out loud: "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria."

"Oh, Gimli," said Adelaide, and put her arms around the dwarf. So that's what had happened! Balin had died! That's why his kingdom was not in running condition; and that's why so many lay dead! There had obviously been a battle, conducted by orcs, to try and capture the underground "nesting" sight. That couldn't have been good. Poor Balin! Adelaide could remember all too well the part that that dwarf had played with Bilbo Baggins. He had been the only dwarf to be fond of the hobbit, and the only dwarf to truly have concerns about the hobbit. Yes. Poor Balin, and poor Gimli!

The others were very quiet, and didn't say anything. But they did all crowd into the little room. It was infested with stench, and there were dead dwarves around the tomb of Balin. There were cobwebs about, and it was truly a place of filth. Adelaide saw one or two rats about. It was plain nasty. But what could you possibly do? A little Clorox, some SoftScrub, and a very large sponge might have done the trick. But you know, Adelaide really didn't feel like cleaning up a morgue.

Gandalf took off his hat and handed this as well as his staff to Pippin. Then he leaned down to a dwarf corpse, and picked up out of its crackling yellow claws a large book, bound in leather. Opening it up, he began to read. Adelaide listened carefully. It seemed as if there had been a battle, conducted by orcs. They had taken the bridge, whatever that meant, and then Balin had fallen. There were drums in the deep. And something more foul had cornered the dwarves. There was no escape.

Meanwhile, Pippin had backed up near to a large well. Sitting on the well was the corpse of yet another dwarf, and his skeleton loomed out at the hobbit from behind a seedy veil of cobwebs. Arrows were poking out from his body, and one arrow appeared to have been shot from behind, because it was sticking right out through what was left of his chest. A great chain and iron box was attached to his wrist. As Pippin backed up, the arrow poked him in the back. Jumping, the hobbit turned, and looked closer at the arrow.

Gandalf continued to read, unaware of the hobbit's actions. "There are drums, drums in the deep."

Pippin reached out with curious fingers and touched the arrowhead gently. It was crusted over with blood and cobwebs; the feel of it felt strange to the hobbit's soft hand.

"We cannot get out."

Pippin chipped off the arrowhead without meaning to, but at that moment, the head toppled off, and banged down the well. The noise sounded like a hollow bowling ball crashing through an isle of metal. Everyone jumped, turned, and glared with frightened eyes at the hobbit, who had turned and thus tried to look innocent. But then the whole body of the dwarf crashed down the well, bringing with it the giant iron chain and box. The noise was terrific. It sent shivers through everyone's body, and then, when the last of the echoes had died away, and nothing happened, sighs of relief were let out by more than one person.

Gandalf snapped the book shut with a thud. "Fool of a Took!" he hissed. "Throw yourself in next time, and spare us a burden!" He angrily took his staff and hat away from Pippin, and glared at him. Pippin could do little but wince in humiliation. But Adelaide had been holding back a laugh with her hand, and now, the situation was so funny that she let it out. Gandalf whirled on her.

"And don't you encourage him, young lady!" he snapped. Adelaide coughed, or at least pretended to. But as she finished her little coughing, there came a noise like no other: drums.

They came from deep beneath the earth, a grand sound that resembled thunder, and caused the little room to tremble slightly with the vibrations. Everyone else turned in fear. Was or had Moria been totally deserted?

"We cannot get out; we're trapped," said Boromir. Adelaide rolled her eyes. Was this to be typical of this man throughout the journey? Always looking on the negative side?

"I don't like it," muttered Sam. Frodo drew his sword. Sting was bright blue.

"Orcs!" he cried.

Boromir ran to the door and peeked out. He must not have liked what he saw, because he swiftly withdrew his head back inside, and with Aragorn's help, closed the huge doors.

"They have a cave troll," he grumbled.

"This is _not_ good!" cried Adelaide. "We have to bar that door, and…and try to find an escape route."

"Bar the door!" cried Aragorn. "And stand ground!"

"_WHAT_?"

"There is no other escape route," said Gandalf, drawing his sword, Glamdring. _Whoa_, thought Adelaide, _that's totally tango. He has his own sword_! Boromir had drawn his sword, as well as the hobbits. But Legolas had no sword. Instead, he quietly took his bow from his back and fitted an arrow into it, handling it as gently as a man would his wife. Gimli, however, was a different pot of stew, and jumped up on Balin's tomb with his axe.

"Yah! Let them come! I'll teach them to desecrate the tomb of my relations! There's still one dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!" He was mad. And it looked as if would get his chance. The drumming was getting closer, and now that the door had been barred, the orcs, or whatever was out there, were trying to get in, ramming it and splintering it. Adelaide had no sword, but she did have the dagger that Aragorn had given her on Weathertop. She drew it, wondering how on earth she was supposed to fight without a decent weapon.

Fortunately for her, Eowyn had taught her a good lesson about such helplessness in battle: put up the toothpicks and run like hell for cover.

A splinter of the door tore down, leaving a hole. Legolas shot an arrow, hitting dead-center of the orc. It howled, and did not speak again. At that moment, the door gave way, and about a hundred orcs surrounded the Fellowship. They were hideous to behold. Like I said before, orcs were an imitation of Elves, or at least they were once Elves. Now they were distorted caricatures, and did not look healthy at all.

Gandalf was whirling and hitting out with Glamdring, as well as with his staff, which must have hurt. That thing was an oaken staff, supportive and terribly sharp when wielded. It was dangerous triple times in the hands of a wizard. And how he did manage that thing plus a sword! Gimli was fighting off orcs from his trusty little lookout on top of Balin's tomb, which gave him a direct advantage. He was furious with his axe; she had never seen an axe so wielded before. It was kind of funny, the way he looked, stout and brave, and yelling for all the good it was doing him. Legolas, ever the light-footed one, was running here and there, dispatching orcs with a seemingly endless supply of arrows. He looked mighty cool about it; that was something. Aragorn too, looked very cool about his job, as well as Boromir. Both men were using their swords (and Boromir had a shield) to ultimately fight off the terrible orcs, slashing and biting their way through, until there were only a few orcs left.

The hobbits, I may say, were getting into the action in their own little way. Sam did loosen his pans and began banging orcs on the head, knocking them out. "I think I'm getting the hang of this," he murmured cheerfully, and went for another orc. But this time trouble was in store for Sam, because at that moment, the whole wall of the door gave way, and in came a huge beast, lumbering around almost blindly and striking with a hungry, maddened rage. It was a cave troll. "Oh, yuck," Adelaide muttered.

Sam could not agree with her, because he had not time. The angry beast was blind with blood and hunger, and in pain, it lashed out at anyone and anything, even the orcs. It was Legolas who dared to shoot at it first, but this only made the thing angrier, and it lumbered towards the fair Elf of Mirkwood. In its path, was Sam. Sam stood stock still, gazing up in stupefied terror at the beast, and then gave a yell. He darted just in time between the creature's legs to safety, and it advanced on Legolas.

Adelaide to this day could not figure out why and how she did what she did. After all, if the troll had killed Legolas, it wouldn't have mattered too much to her. But her feet were moving before her mind contemplated anything else, and she took a flying leap at the troll, tackling it like a football player and stabbing at the neck with her dagger. The troll roared in pain and grabbed her, throwing her bodily against the wall. Adelaide shrieked in pain, and slid down in a heap on the floor. Her body had never experienced so much agony before. Tears squeezed from her eyes.

_Well, you wanted to come, you moron! _

Legolas shot another arrow up into the beast, hitting his eye, but the troll merely plucked it out and threw it away. His next target was a little hobbit from the Shire, a one Mr. Frodo Baggins. Frodo, as usual, became helpless in a fight, though I say again, the treatment of his Adelaide had made a boiling rage surge up in his heart. He leaped forward and stabbed the beast's foot, crying out, "The Shire!"

"One for the Shire!" cried Aragorn, as he saw blood spill from the foot. "You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo!"

The troll did not think this humorous at all, and picked up the wretched little thing running around his feet. Frodo cried out as he was lifted up and given the same treatment that Adelaide had been given. Groggily he lifted himself up (hobbits are not easily bruised) and then hurried to get behind a large pillar that blocked his body from view. But the troll was a good sniffer, and looked one way. Around the pillar they went, and finally, Frodo breathed a sigh of relief, as it seemed that the thing had moved off. But it hadn't. With one powerful move, he roared in Frodo's face, and then picked the hobbit up again. This time he meant to crush to death.

Then Aragorn came. Grabbing the trident-pitchfork thing in the troll's chest, he thrust it in harder, nearly knocked off his feet by the force of Adelaide's own mind. The troll let go of Frodo, who in turn scrambled to safety. He came over to Adelaide, who was just now beginning to shake off the pain.

"Ow," she said. "That hurt like hell."

"Get up!" he pleaded. "Now for it!"

"Frodo I hate it when you—oh shit!" Adelaide suddenly rolled away just as an orc bright his mace down. Frodo scrambled away for safety, and Adelaide leapt to her feet, not without pain, and ducked beneath the orc's arm, coming up violently and stabbing him directly beneath the jaw. Stunned with that action, she dropped her hand, watching in horror as the orc gave a dying gurgle and slumped to the floor.

Now the troll was angry, and he had the trident in his hand. He knocked Aragorn away, hitting and wounding the man. This time, it looked as though the battle would not be won. The cave troll searched for Frodo, and, finding him, advanced, this time with the trident, or whatever it was. Frodo could not get away, and found himself staring into the gloating face of the ten-foot fiend. He did not have time to cry out before the troll jabbed the trident into him, as easy as you please. Frodo coughed, gasped, groaned, and then fell flat on his face.

The troll turned his attentions back on the wounded Aragorn. But something light flashed in his path—the dratted Elf of Mirkwood. That snotty Elf was always ruining things. He reached out to swipe the Elf, but Legolas avoided him. Then the troll remembered the chain around his wrist, and swung it violently. Legolas ducked, and glared at the creature.

The troll swung his chain again, but this time it coiled around one of the pillars and stuck there fast, chaining him up. Then Legolas leaped lightly across the chain, across the shoulders of the troll, and pointed three arrows down at the beast's head. Three arrows were shot into the creature's skull. The troll roared in pain, and tried to swipe the annoying Elf off his back. Aragorn was back on his feet, and this time, even Merry and Pippin had gotten into the fight, this time leaping upon the back of the troll and clinging there for dear life. They were furious about their fallen comrade.

The troll was wearying. He swung this way and that, trying to shake off the pesky hobbits, but the loss of blood and the exertion was tiring him.

The beast, by loss of blood and strength, wearied quickly. He turned a rather nasty shade of greenish-pale, and then looked at the blood on his fingers. With a last and final effort, he threw the hobbits from him to the ground. Legolas shot another arrow at him, and he cried out. Then he pitched forward on his face, and with a dying moan, did not get up again.

Adelaide first ran to Frodo, and so did Sam. They eased him up, and to their surprise, he sat up and put a hand to his breast, which was not bleeding.

"I'm alright," he panted. "I'm not hurt."

"He's alive," cried Sam, half in joy, half in tears.

"That throw would have skewered a wild boar," muttered Aragorn. "How comes this?"

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," said Gandalf. Frodo looked up at him and then parted his shirt, revealing the saving mithril beneath. Adelaide burst out laughing, while the others stared in awed silence.

"Mithril!" gasped Gimli. "You are full of surprises, Mr. Baggins!"

Adelaide clutched Frodo to her in a huge hug. Frodo smiled dizzily.

"I'm alright now," he said. "And I think I can walk."

"That's good," said Gandalf. "Because we'll need to run."


	22. I've Got a Bad Feeling About This

Chapter 23

"I've Got A Bad Feeling About This"

They shot out of that horrid place in no time flat, Gandalf leading the way. They headed down the long hall of Moria. But as fast as they could run, Adelaide suddenly began hearing a strange noise: like rain or hail falling from the sky and landing on a pebbly surface. She didn't understand it until she looked up and saw about fifty-thousand orcs crawling from who-knew-where; they were infested like cockroaches among the pillars, the ground, and the walls; the mines were full of these scuttling creatures, so that it was like a house infested with termites, or at the least, _Arachnophobia_.

But the orcs were crawling and cursing them, and also running very fast, like a thousand sneaky cats. Soon the Fellowship was surrounded. Gimli was shaking with rage, but finally let out a huge, "YAAARRGGH!"

If that didn't do the trick!

The orcs ceased to chatter. In fact, now they were looking slightly scared themselves. It was a heartened moment for the underdogs, and Gimli let out his breath triumphantly, as if pleased. But a wave of nervousness had racked the orcs. They were shaking, and breaking up. Their heads were also pointed back the way from which the Fellowship had come. They were glancing back and shrieking, and some were already pouring back into their holes like frightened rats. Adelaide was amazed.

"Come on," she said. "Gimli didn't do that. A thousand orcs that practically took over a whole mine of dwarves can't be scared by one dwarf and his yell!"

Then she stopped. The Fellowship was looking back the way they had come. A reddish-yellow glow, like the warm spread of heat on iron, was beginning to flush up the hall. Nearer and nearer it drew, while a low grumbling sound echoed menacingly down the way. The room was getting warm, unbearably warm.

"What new devilry is this?" muttered Boromir. But Gandalf said nothing. He leaned on his staff wearily and closed his eyes. He was not feeling well at all, so to speak. This was the exact reason why he did not want to go into the mines; he had advised the other way. But there was nothing to be done now. The here was the now, and whatever it was that was coming was in the now.

"A Balrog," muttered Gandalf. "This is a foe beyond any of you. Quickly. We must reach the Bridge of Kazhad-dum!"

They ran with all their might. Adelaide had never seen how fast the hobbits could run, but now she was given a taste of what they were really like. Their short legs could not really keep up before, but now it seemed as if they had been given wings. Down the long hallway they ran, and then the Fellowship reached the end, where there was a doorway. The drums were beating, faster and faster, and chanting of a thousand foul voices filled the air. Boromir, ahead of the group, reached the edge, and cried out. It was a dead end. There apparently had been two staircases, one going straight on, and another branching off. The straight-on one had been broken off, and below lay a great and fiery chasm. Boromir gave a _whoa_, and then spread out his arms. Miraculously, no one fell. That's because mostly everyone else took the hint to go to the other side. Gandalf stood in the doorway, but caught Aragorn's arm. His face was lined with sorrow, but passion and action welled up in his eyes. He turned to look back. A great mud of red-hot lava was following the Fellowship; the steam was rising, and baking their backs; Gandalf faced this steam head-on. He was not exactly a humble, bent old man anymore; now he looked much more like a powerful sorcerer.

"Go!" he cried to Aragorn. "Lead them, Aragorn!" The man seemed to protest; seemed to hang onto Gandalf, his friend, for a moment. "Do as I say!" the wizard bellowed, pushing him towards the group. "Swords are of no use here!" Aragorn stared at his friend in wonder for a moment, and then whizzed off after his friends. Gandalf stood alone, a martyr. Sort of.

_Cool_, thought Adelaide, and then she missed the stairway.

It had been broken off as well, though in the middle. Adelaide nearly ran overtop of it, but Boromir, right behind her, grabbed her. It was lucky that he did also, because an arrow whizzed past her head. Luckily it did not strike, but the Elf of Mirkwood sent an arrow in reply, and felled the foul orc. It fell screaming into the abyss. Gandalf had caught up with them now, and made his way to the front.

Legolas and turned to Adelaide. "Fair maidens first," he offered. Adelaide tossed her head.

"Age before beauty," she snapped back.

"Oh, for Eru's Sake, Adelaide!" Aragorn roared angrily, grabbing the girl and tossing her bodily over. The shame was worse than if he'd…well, spanked her. Legolas followed soon after, his lithe body succeeding well.

"Gandalf! Come!" said the Elf, beckoning with his hand. Gandalf rubbed his forehead, scanned the distance, and turned to Adelaide.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled. He made it easily, for he was spry, and Legolas had caught him, but another piece of the staircase had fallen away. Then Gimli rubbed his hands together. Aragorn offered his hands, but the dwarf pushed them away.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" he said stoutly, and leaped the distance himself. He barely made it. Legolas reached out and caught him by his beard. Gimli roared in pain. "Not the beard!" But he made it to safety.

Boromir then picked up Merry and Pippin, in both arms, and heaved across. It was a tremendous task, but he made it. However, one more piece of the staircase had fallen away. Arrows were whizzing around them, though Legolas was hastily sending back his arrows in retort. Adelaide ducked as best she could, but at some point, an arrow struck her in the arm. She cried out in pain, grabbing instinctively at the hurt and accidentally shoving it in further. Bending down, she picked up a loose rock and threw it as hard as she could. Living among hobbits for seventeen years had taught her at least one thing: how to throw rocks accurately. And if Adelaide had been a male, and a member of the Boston Red Sox, she'd have made her claim to fame as pitcher. The rock took out an orc at once.

Frodo was still on the ledge with Aragorn, but now the vastness was wide, and it seemed impossible. A great quake shook the foundations. The side which Aragorn and Frodo were on shook as well, and then started to creak.

"Lean forward!" Aragorn instructed his hobbit friend, and so together, they leaned forward, and the great slab of stone lurched forward, sending them towards the others. They sprawled on the other side, and now, finally, they were alright to go. Adelaide picked up Frodo, and then took off with him, until Frodo reminded her to put him down.

The bridge was just up ahead. The hobbits were the first ones to run across, and then the others followed. But Gandalf stood in the center of the bridge, and turned. He held up his staff, and a bright light, whiter than snow and clearer than any crystal yet known to man, appeared. Brightly it shone forth despite the terrible red wrath that was gaining on them. And then, there and then, the Balrog appeared.

It was cross between a lizard and a water-buffalo; its great wings were aflame, and four arms it had, as well. Fire and smoke spewed from its mouth, and its nostrils snorted death. Its eyes burned fear into the hearts of his foes (if any) and his great horns shook with wrath. A great whip it held in its claws, a whip of burning flame, and in its other hand was a burning sword of fire. It was a titanic thing, larger than the cave troll, and burning mightily, like a torch. Black was its heart, and fiery was its soul.

Technically, now you know why Balrogs are fire demons.

Gandalf faced down the beast. "Go back!" he cried. "Go back! You cannot pass! I am a servant of the secret fire; wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass!"

He lifted Glamdring, as did the Balrog his sword. The two clashed, white against black. But the black was shattered into pieces, and the Balrog roared.

"Gandalf!" screamed Frodo, but was held back by Boromir.

The Balrog raised his whip and cracked it like lightning. Gandalf raised his staff. "You shall not pass!" he cried in such a voice that the very mountains might have shook with fear. The Balrog hesitated. Its eyes slighted. And then, it set one mighty foot on the bridge, as if daring the old wizard. He came head-on. But Gandalf thrust his staff to the ground, cracking the stone beneath, and creating a mighty white light.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he roared. This time, the Balrog really did hesitate. But he came on anyway.

But the cracks that Gandalf had made were not to be ignored, for they shook mightily under the weight of the fire demon. The bridge was cracking. Then, with a mighty roar, the Balrog heaved itself up for a final attack. The bridge simply could not hold out any longer, and split asunder. The mighty beast wailed and roared as fire spewed from its mouth like a raging volcano. It fell, rocks, bridge, demon, whip and all. Gandalf alone remained on the bridge. Nodding with satisfaction, the wizard turned to go. But that was not the last he had seen of the demon. Oh no! For at that moment, the great whip came up again and curled around the legs of the wizard, sending him spinning, off his balance, and clinging to the edge of the rock. Frodo leaped forward, only to be held back by Boromir again.

"Gandalf!" he screamed.

Gandalf struggled at the edge of the abyss for a moment, in a last attempt to heave himself up. But there was nothing that would be done. He looked at them in frantic horror. "Fly you fools!" he cried, and was gone, slipping back into the dark oblivion of the crevice.

Frodo screamed.

"Gandalf!" cried Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir.

Merry and Pippin and Sam burst into tears.

Adelaide screamed; at the same time, half the roof overhead caved in and trembled, rocks breaking, flying down into the abyss. Everything seemed so real, that it was possible that they might have lost Gandalf, their good friend, and wise companion.

Boromir had to haul the hobbits out, but Aragorn stayed rooted.

"Aragorn!" he cried. And then Aragorn came, swiftly, but in a furious mood. He downed several orcs. And at last, they headed up the final staircase, where the light of day awaited them.

They tumbled out into the rocky ground, now stricken with grief. A terrible agony shook everyone. Pippin was lying in Merry's lap, and sobbing, while Sam put his head into his hands and began to cry. Legolas was not crying, but he was staying apart from the Company, and seemed to have nothing to say; his eyes only reflected the pain that was in his heart. Adelaide sat alone, crying to herself, even though she knew that Gandalf would come back. But even a girl who knew how the story went could still cry for the loss of a dearly-beloved guy.

Frodo was walking away from the group in pain and sorrow.

"We cannot stay here," Aragorn said, sniffing a little. "Legolas! Get them up!"

Legolas nodded and came around to each of the hobbits, rousing them. Boromir turned in anger to Aragorn.

"Give them a moment, for Pity's Sake!" he cried.

"By nightfall this place will be swarming with orcs!" cried Aragorn. Then he turned. "Frodo!"

Frodo turned. His face was streaked with tears and pain. He did not want to continue. He wanted nothing anymore. It was all hollow, everything. Gandalf had been his friend, his one companion that he truly liked. But now—

Legolas stooped over Adelaide and then picked up her arm. She snatched it away.

"Leave me alone," she snarled. The Elf retreated a bit, and then turned to Aragorn.

"She was hit," he said softly, and Aragorn turned to her. Gently, he examined her arm, and then looked at her.

"Adelaide, the arrow will have to come out."

"Yeah, I know."

"You cannot go forever with an arrow in you. Might I take it out now, and then bind it better later?"

"Oh, yes, please do." Her voice was harsh, sarcastic.

Aragorn gripped the shaft in both hands and wrenched the arrow out. Adelaide bit her lip so hard it bled. Tears squeezed out.

"There, there, it's all over," said the man, soothing her and binding her arm with a rag. "It is not poisoned. Consider yourself lucky. When we reach Lothlorien, you will have a better physician."

Adelaide stared at him, and suddenly he realized what he had said. "You need a healer," he said firmly, booking no arguments. "I have no time—and nor do you—to worry about what you think about Lothlorien. I cannot bind your wound right now; I have not the proper equipment. Can you wait?"

"Sure I can wait," said Adelaide. "It's the Lothlorien part I don't like."

"You have nothing to fear," said Legolas. "They are my kinsmen, and will not attack a lady openly."

"Who asked you?" snapped Adelaide. "They saw I was a lady last time. What do you call this?" She ripped down her blouse to reveal the scar on her shoulder. "Fuck them," she snarled. Aragorn nearly slapped her, and restrained his hand in time. This was not the time nor the place to be slapping young ladies about. Instead, he gave her a look.

"Be quiet. You know not what you say. Lothlorien is a place of healing, and had you been a guest there, you might have a different opinion on Elves. We won't let anything happen to you. We cannot go and leave you behind, my girl."

Adelaide sniffed. Everything was going wrong, for one reason or another.

They ran far away from those terrible mines, away from the pain and the sorrow. But they could not escape the memory, and nightly it haunted them.

Adelaide's wound did no better and no worse under the faulty conditions. She tried to ignore it by taking care of the hobbits, but found, to her shame, that they took more care of her than she did them. Frodo showered her with kisses and caresses, and the other hobbits clung to her for comfort.

She battled back and forth on how she should talk to the Elves if she met them again—Haldir in particular. She didn't know whether to play a sarcastic bitch or to play nicely with them. As the Company ran through a field of green, she rehearsed some lines in her head, envisioning the way the dialogue might go. None of it seemed to work for her taste. Taking a deep breath, she dropped back beside Legolas. Time to pick the Elf for information.

"Hey there, Elf-boy," she said, as she ran next to him. He smiled at her.

"Ah! So you are speaking to me at last?"

"Don't get smart, Mr. Vulcan-ears . I want a little bit of information on Lothlorien. I don't know what I'm getting myself into again."

"Are you afraid?"

"No," she snapped, and then bit her lip. "Well, wouldn't you be?" she muttered. "I don't want to get ambushed again."

"That is good that you admit it," said the Elf. "I am willing, for that reason, to give you a little bit of information. Lothlorien is a place of beauty, without stain."

"Do you think they hate me still?"

"What do you mean?"

"Haldir, if I remember correctly, hates my guts. I don't think he's gonna welcome me very warmly."

"Maiden, I do not know how to answer you. I do not think that he will hate you, as long as you remember to bow and keep your temper."

"That's it? That's all I have to do?"

"Remember, we Elves are liable to our temper flares as well," said Legolas, smiling. "You are not the only creature who bites, little viper."

Adelaide's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Vipers only bite when antagonized, Elf-boy. Fuck off."

Legolas' eyes welled up with pain. "Very well, lady," he said softly, and ran ahead of her. Adelaide immediately felt remorse for having snapped so hard when he hadn't really deserved it...but her resolve hardened again. So what? The Elf could deal with it, and maybe even take a hint.

She dropped back next to Frodo. The little hobbit hadn't spoken much on the trip, but had ran ceaselessly, without stopping. He needed some kind of talking to.

"Hello," she said softly. Frodo looked up.

"How is your arm?"

"Damn! That's all anyone thinks about! My arm is fine, Frodo, thank you for being concerned. But what about you?"

"I'm alright," he answered softly. "But I miss—"

"Gandalf. You miss Gandalf. Frodo, I promise you, I think that he's fine. Gandalf just doesn't die. He's not the type. Did we actually see him die? No. So cheer up. He's probably in China right now, laughing it up with the Communists. Little joke there," she added. It was kind of funny. But Frodo looked up at her with his sweet clear eyes, and Adelaide relented. "Alright Frodo. I'll be quiet."

"It isn't that," said Frodo. He touched her arm. "I miss us."

"What do you mean?"

"We haven't been together for a long time," said the hobbit. "I miss the two of us…just the two of us…together, Adelaide, alone, where we have some private time to ourselves, and not shared so much among all these other people. But here…here you seem so different.

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled. "Aren't I the same Adelaide you've always known?"

"Yes," Frodo agreed. "But there's something different about you now that I never saw before...a side I think I like less than what you revealed in the Shire."

Adelaide stared at him, and her mind drew a furious blank.

_Well, if you don't like it, then don't go whining about your opinions to me! Why should I try and please you? Give me one good reason why I should._

_Because if you don't, you're disloyal to the cause we are undertaking._

_Oh, I see. The cause. I have to please you because of the cause. And I suppose I ought to fetch you vanilla ice and strawberry wine for the cause too! People can't change just because you want them to, Frodo Baggins. It's a process. I've undergone a lot of them here. So sue me and get out of my face, or else just drop me here and now._

_Dude, Adelaide, relax. Chill out and understand him. He's going through some rough times right now! Your job is to uphold him. So uphold him and keep on fighting._

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "There hasn't been a lot of time for us, hon."

"But I want the time," Frodo said. "I need it, Adelaide. You haven't been yourself at all... ever since we got to Bree you've been acting so different. And now, with all the Big People around..." he bit his lip. "It's as if you don't know us hobbits anymore," he said softly.

Adelaide looked with pity at him. "Oh Frodo," she said gently. "I'm sorry, hon. I know I've been acting differently, and it is because I'm around Big People again. I'm with humans, people I know and can understand. I'm a human too, you know; you can't forget that. While in the Shire, I was a hobbit; I learned to think like one and to behave like one. Now I'm with my own kind again, and I feel...well, it's my own element. But I feel guilty about leaving you behind like that. I don't mean to act very differently. It's sort of ingrained in me. You don't know how much I miss the Shire and the sweet days we spent in it; I prefer it to any other place I've ever been t—"

But at that moment, they entered the forests of Lothlorien, and something told them to shut up, because everyone was quiet at once.

Adelaide could never forget this forest. It was undying. So it looked pretty much the same as when she had first walked through it. Golden leaves were falling upon the ground, and the very air seemed still with a powerful presence upon it, the power of Galadriel, Adelaide knew (but did not fully understand). This time, however, she remembered to hold her tongue. The trees themselves seemed to remember her. She could hear nothing. It was dead silence.

Gimli caught up to the hobbits. All the Elvish silence was getting to him, too. It was too much for him. He was remembering an old legend that he might want to remind Frodo and the others about.

"Stay close, young hobbits!" he whispered. "They say an enchantress lives in this woods. A great witch. Of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell." He walked on, a little proud of himself. "Well! Here's one dwarf she won't ensnare! I've the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

Then he stumbled right into the arrow.

For Adelaide, it was just like being in the same woods eighteen years ago. The Fellowship was surrounded by the golden-haired Elves with silver bows and sharp arrows. Adelaide felt her blood pressure rise, as an Elf she knew all too well stepped forward.

"The dwarf breathes so loudly, we could have shot him in the dark," sneered Haldir. Aragorn walked up to the Elf.

"Haldir. _Boe ammen veriad lin Andeluviven. Merin le lenin_."

"_A Aragorn in Duneduin istannen le ammen. Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion_," he smiled at Legolas. Legolas returned the smile, and lowered his bow.

Haldir's eyes swept over the Fellowship, and his piercing glance fell upon Adelaide. She smiled timidly, trying to remember what Legolas had told her. But when Haldir walked her way, Adelaide found herself pressed up against a tree in an effort to stay away. Haldir glared at her.

"Why have you come back?" he asked. "We sent you to Rohan."

"I did go," admitted Adelaide. "Circumstances forced me to leave."

Haldir cocked his head dangerously, his eyes narrowing. "You should not have come back here," he hissed. "Your going should have warned you. You trespassed upon our land, cursed and defiled it, and caused great distress, moreso than if a dwarf had walked in! Have you learned no lesson? You are not welcome in Lothlorien!"

"Um, well, I know that, and you know that, but I don't have much of a choice right now, so can you guys just maybe deal with it for a little bit?"

"Unfortunately, that may have to be the case," Haldir said stiffly. "Yet little is the love I bear for you. Would that my kinsman had shot you dead, and prevented such evil from befalling our land. Deny it if you can! For even before you came, we knew no wickedness moving, but now that you are here…" he trailed off. Adelaide guessed desperately that the Elf probably knew everything about her that Elrond and the others did. She was indeed a powerful weapon, more so even than the Ring. And now, to walk into Lothlorien, knowing all that…

"Haldir, look, I'm sorry we can't get along, but get over it already!" Adelaide begged. "I can't help it that I'm…I'm…the way I am!" she finished lamely.

"Seems as though you're not the only one to hold a grudge, Adelaide," Aragorn offered no sympathy whatsoever. Adelaide flashed him a mean-blooded look and turned back to Haldir.

"The whole affair wasn't my fault. You guys shot at me first anyway, and besides that, I—"

"Your explanations have no meaning here," Haldir snapped. "You are still as discourteous as ever. My Elves will escort you to the borders, give you a horse, and then you are free to choose the way you will walk. But no further will you come!"

That wasn't good.

"Look, I'm sorry for whatever it was that I did wrong, but it wasn't like I _knew_ this was Lothlorien and I _purposefully_ wanted to defile your home-sweet-home. Where I come from, men sometimes do really funny things to rape women, and you guys looked like, er…well, you know! What was I supposed to think?" Adelaide had a feeling she was digging her own grave. "Can you just see it my way, for once? I didn't know I had landed smack-dab in Middle Earth!"

"You're wounded, I see," said Haldir. "Did you check an orc with that tongue of yours?"

"That's cold." Adelaide was struggling to hold herself in check. "That's really, really cold."

"You were instructed not to come back," Haldir snapped. "You cannot come any further."

Adelaide broke. She'd had it. "Well, you know what? That's just too bad. I'm with the Fellowship. There's not a lot you can do about it. I don't care how you feel about me, but you're not going to tell me where the hell I'm going and when I'm going. You're not even gonna tell me HOW I'm going. So get this straight, Elf-boy. If you so much as touch me, I'll scream as loud as my voice box permits. Okay?"

Aragorn suddenly stepped between the two of them, facing Haldir. "I don't know what has started this all," he said angrily. "But enough is enough. We could sit here all day arguing and exchanging insults, but we are in haste. She is with our Company, and Elrond permitted—chose, no less!—her to come."

Legolas touched Haldir's shoulder.

"For my sake, kinsman," he said softly, menacingly. "Do not cause her trouble, and she will cause you none."

_Ooh, to have that pointy-eared golden-boy stick up for me like that…"for his sake"! Bullshit! _

Haldir gave him a look.

"Prince Legolas, I see your point, but there are others to consider. She is a danger and a threat. You know not what you have brought upon yourself."

"I know full well what we have here, and it is a failure of communication," Legolas shot back. If Adelaide hadn't been so upset, she would have laughed to hear her very words, spoke 18 years ago. "I would have you treat her with respect. She is my friend," he added. Adelaide's eyes went as large as saucers.

_Friend! Since when?_

Haldir gritted his teeth. "It shall be as you wish. Perhaps you will then be responsible for her every action, and her every word? Who among you will account for her language? She is profane and vulgar!"

"And maybe we've never asked ourselves why, huh?" Adelaide muttered.

"Adelaide, are you going to behave yourself, or not?" Aragorn demanded.

"That depends on Mr. Hot-Shot over here," she shot a look of pure loathing at Haldir. "But okay. Whatever. I give up. There seems to be no pleasing anyone today. It's not my fault I'm here! It wasn't a voluntary action of my own will! Nobody asked me to come, I certainly didn't ask to come, and if you offered me a chance to leave this place, I'd take it on the drop of a dime! But that's not possible, unfortunately. You think you know what you're doing. So fine. You're the boss."

Haldir gritted his teeth. Obviously, he really wanted to slap Adelaide. But Legolas got his way.

"Aragorn! We should go back," said Gimli. "These woods are perilous."

"You cannot go back," said Haldir. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood." He looked at Frodo. "Come, she is waiting."

The Fellowship was led through the forest into the beautiful blue halls. Adelaide could feel the air; it was cooler, and besides that, she could feel the rush of breathtaking awe and beauty, even though she could not see it. The magic was there, deep down, and that was enough for her. She could feel everything, from the coolness of air, to the sweet and mystical presence of magic. Elven magic, she guessed, but she could not be for sure. In another moment, however, Aragorn lifted her, helping her to swing up into a tree, upon a platform there. Here were gathered several Elves, including Haldir.

Aragorn and Haldir seemed to be conversing in a stimulated manner. She was suddenly cold, and realized that few were standing near her. One of the Elven guards approached her, and took up her hand, kissing it gently. Adelaide stared hard at the face.

"Well, maiden, it seems you've come back."

"Lindir!"

"You remember me? I well remember you."

"Holy Cow, how could I forget you?"

"You've made trouble for yourself again, I see."

"It's not my fault!"

Lindir sighed. "Maid, is it EVER your fault?"

She crossed her arms. "Look, Haldir has got it embedded in his brain that I'm the epitome of evil, okay? He couldn't even forgive me for what happened as accident last time. I'm sane now; I know where I am, and I'm not so scared anymore. Why did he go and be so mean?"

"Why did you return his insults?"

"Was I supposed to stand there and take the blows?"

"You might have done worse for yourself."

"Seems like I did, hands down. Never mind all that...what are they saying?"

"They are discussing the dwarf."

"Gimli?"

"Yes, they are not pleased that the dwarf should be here. There is division between our peoples, and dwarves are liked less than you, so you are the last thing on our minds."

"That's good to know. What are they saying now?"

"Haldir does not wish the dwarf to be admitted to the Golden Realm. He is wary of such a one. You, they have not yet mentioned."

Adelaide breathed easier. At least someone else around here was unliked too. She didn't feel so alone. Finally, she could hear Legolas and Aragorn speaking together in Elvish. Beside her, Gimli fidgeted.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves; speak words we can all understand!" he grumbled.

Haldir glared at him. "We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days," he sneered. Gimli got mad again.

"Well, do you want to know what this dwarf says to that?" And he went off on a string of dwarfish. _Whoa_, she thought. _That is totally cooler than Elvish. I gotta learn that language too._ Then she frowned. What Gimli had just said was a curse upon Haldir's grave by the method of spitting. And apparently, by the chilly silence in the air, Haldir was furious. Adelaide was inwardly delighted. Served him right, the snob.

"_That_ was not so courteous," remarked Aragorn, giving Gimli his "shut up and don't talk any more" look.

"It is forbidden for him to walk into the Galadhrim," said Haldir. "But since Legolas speaks for him, I will do him this favor. However…"

Adelaide tried to puzzle that out. If a dwarf of Middle Earth was not loved among Elves, and forbidden to walk among the whatever-he-said, what would happen to her?

Haldir turned to Frodo, who backed up against Adelaide. "You bring a great evil with you," said Haldir gravely. "You cannot go further."

At this, Frodo felt stricken to heart. No further! When he had come so far, and he was so tired! Where else was he to go, and what would he do? So many things happened…he turned and looked around for support. To his surprise, and shock, most of the Fellowship members stared back at him with sad faces. Dejected and disheartened, their eyes were empty and lost. They felt that same loss as well as he did. Even Legolas looked downhearted.

Aragorn took Haldir aside and spoke to him in Elvish again. Another heated debate rose, and for a long time, everything seemed to be a little complicated. Adelaide had known easier situations at an airport.

At last, Haldir turned to them. "You will follow me," he said curtly. Adelaide felt the movement of bodies and did her best to move forward as well, but Haldir put up a hand. "Not you," he said harshly. "You will stay here."

Frodo stopped. He turned and stared at Haldir, and then walked right up to Adelaide. He placed himself in front of her.

"If Adelaide doesn't come, then I'm not going," he said spitefully. He ignored the surprised looks of everyone. He could feel Adelaide tensing up behind him, genuinely touched and very much shocked. Her reaction was worth every bold move.

Haldir stared, but before he could say anything, Frodo spoke again.

"Let her come. I need her."

Haldir looked upon Frodo with something akin to jealousy. Adelaide did not see it, but Legolas did. He was suddenly fully aware that Haldir's anger had nothing to do with Adelaide, but with himself. But Aragorn, who analyzed the situation quickly, knew just how to handle things.

"_We_ need her," he added firmly. Haldir looked royally ticked off. But finally he turned to Adelaide.

"I am doing something great for you, despite the little love I bear for you," he said. "You shall walk among the Elves of the Galadhrim, and you shall meet the Lord and Lady. And you have my word that your wound shall be dressed. But do not expect any more favors, lady. It is the most that I can do for you."

Adelaide opened her mouth to spit out a retort, and thought better of it. "Thank you," she replied.

"I suppose I ought to be thanking you for all this," Adelaide said sourly. "I wasn't expecting a lot anyway."

Haldir seemed a trifle gentler, and Adelaide figured that perhaps she's given him a compliment. "All in good time," said Haldir. "Legolas, you shall answer for the dwarf, and you, Ringbearer, shall answer for…what is her name? Adelaide? Adelaide. Very good. Answer for her, if you will. Go in."

Adelaide took Frodo's hand, and she stepped forward. She pushed through the branches, and gasped.


	23. Affairs of the Heart

Chapter 24

Affairs of the Heart

Lothlorien on the outside had been mysterious and lovely, but the inside was deeper in meaning, song, and life. Had Adelaide recorded her feelings on paper and looked back on them, they might have seemed cheesy at the time, but all she could feel at that moment was the life and beauty of a place unstained. It was as if something—not her own voice, but another—was singing in her heart. She could literally feel the vibrations of this world, soaked as it was in beauty, passion, peace, and a love of nature.

A white light shone from the treetops, which swirled and knotted together in intricate designs, so that Adelaide could see where the Elves made their homes. Stairways of natural growth twisted and twined around the trunks of enormous trees, taller than Adelaide had ever seen. The Fellowship themselves had just climbed one of these intricate stairwells, and were now standing on a floor of polished wood (Legolas explained that it was a _fletch_), and overhead there was a canopy, in which flowers and things of beauty were grown and twined. Adelaide could not find the words to express for such beauty. It was something she had never quite gotten used to, and suddenly, she was aware; aware of how dirty she was, and how awful she must look without a gown! She had a weapon, too, and had sworn like a sailor. No wonder Haldir had persecuted her!

Adelaide suddenly felt uncomfortable, dirty, and low-born, and couldn't even look at Frodo, who was walking ahead of her. She didn't have any right to be here—not in Lothlorien, not in Middle Earth, ever. How could any of them really like her, even as a friend? She tried everyone's patience, she cursed openly without restraint, she preferred jeans to a feminine skirt, and, under Eoywn's tutelage, she could wield a sword. How could they manage to put up with her? Why did Frodo adore her? For that matter, why did anyone love her?

Adelaide was close to tears with self-pity when a white light shone on them from above, and a door opened to one of the overhead canopies. There, ascending from a small stairway, came the Lord and his Lady. Grave, tall, and beautiful they were, Elven Elders, wise and kind. The Lord wore silver robes, and his hair had the appearance of silver, and upon his brow sat many years of wisdom. His hands held no weapon, but bore invisible scars of knowledge of war. His eyes saw deeply, and possibly deeper than she might have known, but his face was noble, serene, and almost radiant.

The Lady was no taller than her Lord. Gowned in the purest white, her hair like spun gold, she radiated a serene peace that put even her husband to shame. Her face was grave and solemn, for she had seen the future, and things that were to come for Middle Earth. Her skin was of the fairest white, smooth as porcelain. But her eyes were those of deep and mysterious things, as beautiful as Lothlorien itself, for there seemed to be a song inside her eyes, and it chanted of serious matters far beyond thoughts of mortal men. And how they prodded! They gazed slowly over the Company, but Adelaide did not like this very much. It made her feel uncomfortable.

"You are being tracked," said the Lord Celeborn (for that was indeed his name). "The Enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there were, but here are eight. Tell me, where is Gandalf the Gray, for I have much desired to speak with him again. I can no longer see him from afar."

The Fellowship looked at one another in hesitation, and then the Lady Galadriel (for that indeed was her name) spoke. Clear and sad was her voice.

"He has fallen into shadow," she said quietly. "My mind cannot see him."

Her mind? Adelaide felt that this was odd. Could some Elves have powers of mind coordination and reading? Sort of like her own?

"He was lost," Legolas said quietly. "Mithrandir had fallen into the abyss of Durin; he fell fighting the Balrog of ancient times. A fell and deadly creature, alas! The most terrible of all Elf banes, for we went needlessly into the mines of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," replied Celeborn gently. "He who said that thing would be rash indeed. What becomes now of the Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife," breathed the Lady. Her fair face was shadowed by some sort of sadness. Adelaide felt sorry for her. "Stray but a little, and it will fail."

Here, her eyes began searching them, individually, and penetrated into their very hearts and minds. Aragorn and Legolas endured her glance without so much as blinking an eye. Gimli's mouth was hanging open (he probably didn't realize it, but it was), and he hung his head, almost in shame. Merry and Pippin also hung their heads. Sam looked straight for a moment, then blushed and quickly hung his head. But Boromir did something very odd. He tried to hold the Lady's gaze. It was a peaceful calm, battling with a striving force, but the calm won out. Boromir began to sweat, and then he dropped his gaze with an angry and shame-faced scowl.

And then Galadriel turned to Adelaide, who quickly dropped her gaze at once. Earlier thoughts floated to the surface, self-pity made her wish she could melt into the ground. But then American pride took over. Why not meet the rigid stare of this Elven Queen? Why not see what those eyes had to say? Adelaide lifted her head and met the violet orbs of knowledge and wisdom, unflinching.

And those violet eyes probed. They probed deep, and Adelaide could feel the Lady searching her, with questioning, but also with temptations. Would she like to go home? Wouldn't she rather be with Frodo in the Shire right now than in Lothlorien? And then she offered a passage home to Adelaide; she offered her everything her heart might desire.

Adelaide stared at the Lady. It was almost like talking to God, in a weird way (Please, lightning, don't strike me).

_I've promised Frodo to stick with him. Sorry. Can't give that up. I love him too much. _

_What of Legolas? Do you not love him?_

Whoa! Now THAT had come out of left field, and something Adelaide fought against terribly. _No! I don't love him! I don't even care about him!_ Her wound was sending her into a fit of dizziness; her whole body was racked with fire; the blood was welling up again as the suppressed the mad desire to thrust the Lady backwards and out of her life; she wished she could lay down for a minute. She blinked, but she did not lower her head.

_Don't underestimate me, please. I'm stronger than you think. I know I am. _

_Ah! Are you?_

The Lady turned her gaze away finally, and began to speak again. "But hope remains, if all are true." She glanced at those who had hung their heads. "Now come. Rest yourselves, for you are weary in body and heart. Tonight you shall sleep in peace…"

And even as she spoke, she turned to Frodo. A piercing glance she gave, ready to probe and discover. The hobbit found himself looking at her with peace inside himself, if not a little fear. He heard the Lady whispering inside his head.

_Welcome, Frodo of the Shire. One who has seen the Eye!_

The others were escorted by Elves to a pavilion under the treetops, where couches had been laid for their comfort. But Adelaide was held back by two Elves, and she stood before the Lady, half in fear, half in tired sadness. The Lady moved forward and took her under the chin with a silken, translucent hand. Adelaide stared back into the eyes with a sudden strength that was not quite her own. The Lady smiled.

"Come, child," was what she said, and Adelaide did not protest as she was led beneath a small pavilion of lights and soft trappings which fell about them like gentle curtains. And the Lady bade her to be seated upon a soft couch there, and they sat opposite each other. Adelaide tried to sit up straight, but she was so overwhelmed by the glow and wonder of everything that she sort of slouched. The Lady smiled.

"Welcome to Lothlorien, Elspeth. I give thee greetings as I may, for it is an honor to at last meet you in person, to speak with you, and behold you here in our very land, little bride."

Adelaide's jaw dropped. "_You_ are honored to see _me_?" she asked, astonished. "But…I thought I wasn't welcome here. I mean, I thought…er…you're the Queen of the Elves; how could you be honored to meet _me_?"

"I know much of you, though you may not be aware of that knowledge," said the Lady softly. "But whatever cannot be undone, we shall let lie. You are safe, and that is what I long desired, that such a thing should be protected and tended with love, for you will need great strength for what lies ahead. For even though you do not understand now, you will in the future. Perhaps it is not for you to be party to your fate. You need not have knowledge of it. I will cease, therefore, to speak of the matter, and we will talk no more of it. Did you understand my questioning?"

Adelaide shook her head honestly.

"You are courteous, whatever my people say," said Galadriel. "And you are honest. Why apologize for having been so truthful? Even though our race would count you among the vulgar, I say now that you shall be counted among those who are the Truth-Tellers; those whose hearts have lain in the beds of honesty and wisdom, and their experiences have let them be as they are without much stain and device. Even in my forest, where it is said no defilement has come, your honesty has been quite clear. Would you like me to explain my motives for questioning you?"

"Please."

"I did so to test you, and so see if you would rather go back home than stay true to the quest. You have met the challenge and have proved your worth, for your love for the Ringbearer is immediate and faithful."

Adelaide was quiet for a moment. Like any gal in love, she had wanted to sing of that adoration to the world, brag about it, and tell everyone on the street what her inner thoughts were. Suddenly, she disassembled, blurting out her emotions to the Queen of the Elves as if she were a friend at a girls' slumber party. "Yeah," she said softly. "I love him a lot. He's the world to me, however crazy that sounds. I mean, it's stupid, isn't it? A human falling in love with a creature half her height…and he falling for a gal so much taller than he. And I'm an American, from a completely different time and place, and I'm not…not like any woman around here at all .I swear, I drink, I dress like a man—sort of, anyway—and I'm really rude at times. I don't see what he sees in me, sometimes, and I don't see what anyone else sees in me, and I wish I knew why I was here…I mean, that's kind of silly, isn't it?"

"Not if you truly love."

"I don't even know what the word means."

"It is enough to understand in your heart."

"But what happens when…" Adelaide bit her lip. "It's kind of weird. I love him, I want to be faithful to him, and I want him to be happy, more than anything else in the world, and I know he's happiest when we're together. But what do I do about...well, what if someone else comes in? Does it mean my love is growing cold?"

"It means that it is tested," said the Lady gravely. "And tested to such a degree that you shall have to find the strength within yourself to persevere no matter how harsh the trial may seem. You are a woman of faith." She reached out and touched Adelaide's arm, very gently. "You do not know, little one, how much faith and hope you have. It is even stronger than your mind...but no, you do not yet understand! It is difficult, for one who cannot see very far. Your mind is so clouded by your emotions...fear, pain, love, regret...I see much in you, Elspeth, that I would ask you to drop, if I were not in assurance of your future victory and your willingness to carry this cross unto happiness. Stay with Frodo, Elspeth, no matter what. Love him, even when you feel that the love is cold. Believe; have faith. Love will come to you if you trust in its dream of hope. And such a tangible dream for those who believe...those who hope. And there is more of that in you than the instinct to kill or do otherwise. Love dominates you, though you may not know it. And that is a spirit which is especially cherished among those who live here...and even something more, which you do not yet see or understand. But in time, you shall."

Then the Lady reached out and placed her hand over Adelaide's, taking it within her own smooth white palm, and squeezing it tenderly.

"Elspeth…your mind is a beautiful, powerful thing. It is your strength, and your heart is your courage. What you lack physically you make up in these two components, and you are more than worthy to walk the grounds of our land. I ask your forgiveness for our earlier actions against you, lady. Poor child! Haldir was impulsive. But you took even myself off guard. Middle Earth was not prepared for such as you."

She, the great lady, was apologizing to her, the dirty little mortal! Adelaide didn't know what to do, and fiddled with the hem of her garment.

"I…there's nothing to forgive," she stammered. "It was just a misunderstanding, and a good 50% of it was my fault anyway. I'm nothing special. It's the Elves who have every right to be ticked off with me."

"And yet how can I feel any anger towards my Bride?"

"What do you mean?"

"It is for you to discover that."

"But you're the…" Adelaide narrowed her eyes, somewhat playfully. "You're not the first person who's addressed me like that."

"Ah, who has done so before me?"

"Nobody. It was a dream."

"And you wonder at this? I find it extraordinary, far beyond what we ourselves may think. The magic of the Elves is for you to discover, though in your heart I know there is a firm belief in us, and for you, a mortal, to have found yourself faced with such as I...or Haldir, who, I am certain, does not measure up to your expectations of an Elf? You have been placed in a situation far beyond your comprehension. Science, I think you call it, cannot explain what has been done here. Your mind has brought you here. It is a powerful power you own. And only time can tell whether you shall go home or not."

Adelaide sighed. "Patience," she said humbly. "Is not one of my better virtues."

"Yet you will have need of it before the end."

"But what end? The story? Something just makes me want to do the job myself, so we can hurry it all up. Oh, I know," she said, as the Lady smiled. "I'm only a silly, impatient, rude little mortal, but Tolkien had a bad habit of putting everyone on the edge of the seat."

Galadriel said nothing to her, but her keen eyes probed, and Adelaide felt herself suddenly awash in her soul as her heart poured out in thoughts all the turmoil of the weeks and years, and how things seemed so lost and distant. And it seemed to her that the Lady listened, for her expression changed many times, and the last look was a look of comfort. Adelaide felt a little better then. Galadriel wasn't all that bad.

They sat for a while, the Lady looking at Adelaide, who had her hands clasped and her head bowed. Then the Lady stood. Tall and fair was she, like a queen, but in her heart was a mother's goodness.

"You are wounded," said she. "And you are extremely ill. Attendants will bathe the wound and dress it, and for tonight, you must stay away from the rest of the Fellowship. It would not do for them to see you now. For you I have prepared a room and a gown. If you shall be wanting of anything, you have only to call upon an attendant. If the others wish to see you, they may, only one at a time."

Adelaide was too tired to decide whether or not she liked these arrangements. They were new, but the Lady was giving her a fair chance. And a bed sounded only too sweet for the ears.

As Adelaide was escorted out, Galadriel called from behind:

"You do not really hate Middle Earth, Adelaide Elspeth Genevieve Edessa. You say such things out of anger. But you do not really hate this land."

_What, am I madly in love with it, then?_

_I say you are._

Meanwhile, the Fellowship was resting gently under some trees. Boromir was talking to Aragorn, when Legolas came back, with some wine, and dressed a little more casually, without his whole gear deal. His golden hair shone with a silver glint in the blue light. All around him, there were Elvish voices sent up in wailings or at least very sad songs and chanting.

"Listen!" said Legolas. "A lament for Gandalf."

"What do they say?" asked Merry.

"I have not the heart to tell you," said Legolas softly. "For me the grief is still too near…a matter for tears, and not yet for song."

The others heavily agreed with this. Sam, however, got up and faced Frodo. "Well, I wish they'd put in something about Mr. Gandalf's fireworks, if you know what I mean, Mr. Frodo."

The finest rockets ever seen

_They burst in stars of blue and green_

_Or after thunder, golden showers,_

_Came falling like a rain of golden flowers_

"Oh…that doesn't do them justice by a long-shot…"

Meanwhile, Aragorn had crawled over to Boromir, and was engaged in a discussion with him.

"Get some rest," he said. "We shall need our strength."

"I will find no rest here," said Boromir sadly. He seemed to be struggling in his heart, and it was visible upon his forehead. "I heard a voice inside my head. She spoke of my father, and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, even now, there is hope left, but I cannot see it." Boromir let a few tears fall. Something else was racking his brain, but not even Aragorn could see it. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, and now our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I…I would do it!"

Aragorn understood this. Boromir was obviously the troubled child of his family, having a bunch of family weight put upon him. It was not easy, especially for men. And Boromir seemed to be a man of little patience, who was not really meant to be so depended upon.

"Have you ever seen it Aragorn? The White City? Have you ever been called home, by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" Boromir looked far away, his whole countenance changing into one of hope and glory. He looked kingly himself, and his eyes danced.

Aragorn smiled. "I have seen the White City once, long ago."

Boromir returned the smile. "One day our paths will lead us there. And the tower guards shall take up the call, the Lords of Gondor have returned!"

Aragorn smiled. It was a great dream to have. Fate would bring them down different paths to the same place. But fate would also choose their spiritual destinations...one for the throne, another for the river and the halls of Mandos.

Adelaide, meanwhile (there are a lot of meanwhile's in this story) was led across the yard again by a tall Elf with fair hair and a fair face (there were lots of those, too). Where she went, she was stared at, and there were some deep gasps among some. It was very rare that female mortals set eyes upon Lothlorien, or even upon the home of Calas Galathon. The few who did were older women, who had some connection to Elves. This girl had none, except her thin familiarity with Legolas, and she was not very old, either. Already word had gotten round that the Prince of Mirkwood had brought with him the Alien from Another World, and that she was exceedingly beautiful, but those who saw her didn't see anything uniquely special. Adelaide looked precisely how anyone else would look after a confrontation with the underground, a Balrog, and two or three days of running through Mother Nature. However, once again, her sparkling gray eyes, which made a lot of American guys halt for a second look, were the captivating factor in Lothlorien.

Adelaide felt a little uncomfortable with all the stares and awed murmurs. She tried to ignore them as the Elf escorted her along to a small room of her own.

Elven homes were sparsely furnished, if nothing else. But it was a pretty room. It seemed to be in a kind of woven nest, like the homes weaver birds build. Branches interwove with branches, and so formed a sort of pattern, like a basket. Light streamed through every so gently, that the room was reduced to a low blue glow. And here, Adelaide disassembled completely. Let 'em talk. Let 'em do whatever they wanted, so long as she got food and a bed out of it. She let the Elf maids bathe and tend to her wound, and then he politely left her to her own devises with a bath and one of the Lady's own maidens.

The feel of water against her skin was delightful, as well as the slippery soap and smell of the lavender. A sweet fragrance was added to her hair, and she was dried with the softest of towels. Not a word did the maiden speak, but dried her off carefully, and then dressed her in a gown of blue-silver. Soft and silky it went over her head, and then her hair was dressed. Then she was left alone in the room for a bit. Adelaide was so tired that she could have fallen asleep at that moment, when there came a soft knock at the door. A little upset at being disturbed, she said, rather sleepily, "Come in," and to her great surprise, in came Haldir.

Wonders of wonders, thought Adelaide, but he had probably come to insult her again, so she just rather ignored him. She ignored him, that is, until he spoke.

"How are you faring?"

She felt it better not to be sarcastic. "I can't complain. They've treated me much better than I'd originally anticipated. I thought—" she paused, and Haldir filled in the blank.

"—that we should chain you up and lock you in a dungeon. Perhaps that was the impression I gave you, at our first meeting, and this second. But mistake me not, maiden; we have no such things here, and even if we did, there would be no room in our hearts to do such a thing. You are angry with me," he said, and paused. Adelaide raised her eyebrow and allowed herself the luxury of a sarcastic remark.

"Really! What gave you that impression?"

"I am sorry for having caused you so much trouble."

"You're sorry! Aw, heck…" she shook her head. "I don't know if we even ought to be blaming one another," she muttered. "At this point, we're supposed to be allies, and I don't care whether you hate me or not."

Haldir came closer. "Maiden, I would have you look upon me kindly. If I seemed to do wrong, it was only because of mistrust and a desire for the good of our land."

"Yeah, well, if _I _seemed to do wrong, it was because I thought the lot of you were going to rape me, and I had no idea I was actually in Middle Earth. Seems like we were both at cross-purposes. So it's all good, I guess."

"Is it?"

She shrugged. "It is, if you make it that way."

"Maiden..."

Haldir practically threw himself upon the floor in front of her, clasping his hands upon her lap in supplication, his face turned upwards to her own in pleading radiance; she looked at him in astonishment, and then the Elf did something she had least expected: he grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers in a fabulous, wet, long, smacking kiss. It was the kind that shot fireworks hotter than the 4th of July, and Adelaide, had she been watching, might have whistled. The force of the kiss was so unexpected and marvelous that she forgot to struggle.

When Haldir broke the kiss, Adelaide struggled for breath.

"Where the hell did _THAT_ come from?"

"Maiden, maiden, beautiful mortal maiden, do not spurn me!" he cried. "I cannot hold back longer. I can no longer keep back from you what I have thought all along. You are so beautiful, so fair, so wild and free, you excite me to where I feel pain in my sleep, and I curse myself for letting you go. Oh maiden what I would give for a caress from your sweet hand!"

Adelaide stared at him. He was insane. "It's the gown, isn't it?" she asked. "Yeah. That's it. It's turning your head."

"Oh, maiden, maiden, to speak to me so!" he cried. "How I would give all of what I have for you!"

"Oh please! Cool off, Elf-boy! Where is this coming from? Hang ten a moment, and explain things in English, please!"

"Sweet maiden, why do you resist?" he asked, and literally went down on one knee. "Not for naught would I have you. Come! If you desire so, slap my face, and so make atonement for what I have done to you; ease the pain that is burning my heart, for I have felt this pain since I met you. When I first met you, I did not want you to know, at first. I needed to be hostile, you see, for that is how we treat foreigners. But how beautiful you were, like a wild mare that was refusing to be tamed! How sweet your lips looked to me, and how I desired to kiss them! My little flower, what I would give to merely imprint my burning heart upon your lips! Oh, maiden, you mock me! I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your mind. You are angry with me, and so rightfully! But see now, I am willing that you should hit me, slap me, and insult me as much as you like, if only you will then kiss me!"

"Um, no. You're off your fu—your rocker." Adelaide laughed, in spite of her tired feelings. This was all really too funny for words to describe. "Haldir, you barely know me from kingdom come," she chuckled. "This is, what, the second time we've met, and the second time we fight, and suddenly you want a relationship? The lights must all be off upstairs! You don't want me as your sweetheart, trust me. You and I would fight like cats."

"You are very wise," he said. "I might have known that much about you."

"You don't know anything about me; you never gave me half a chance last time."

"Mightn't I plead for your hand?"

"You can if you want, but I doubt that it'll do you a bit of good."

"But maiden," the Elf protested. "Many others seek your hand; indeed, my kindred envies the Elf that is with you now."

"Legolas? I don't care two bits for him. He's all right, under certain respects, but I already HAVE a sweetheart."

Haldir stared at her. "Who?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out. But this totally doesn't mean we can't be friends. I'm cool with you if you're cool with me." She clasped Haldir's hand. "So is it really over between us? You forgive me?"

"Maiden, I forgave you years ago. But how was I to hold myself in front of my archers? They too, remember you, and expect me to hold fast to my words."

"You Elves," Adelaide giggled like a schoolgirl. "All formality, right? Well, we might as well forgive one another and let bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge, as my mum used to say. But you idiot, you should have been politer," she chuckled. "I was scared out of my pants, and here you are telling me that you fell hard from the moment you saw me!"

Haldir had just turned the whole situation into the most hysterical joke ever. Had Adelaide not been so tired, she would have been furious. But all she could see was the humor, and she laughed again. So much for feeling animosity towards the Elves.

Haldir stood. "I wish I could stay here longer, and speak with you," he said. "But my patrol will miss me, and it is hardly proper for such as myself to speak to a woman in love with another. But will you not reconsider my offer? For though your friendship is a jewel beyond price, your love would be the ultimate gift."

Adelaide looked at him sympathetically. She couldn't understand why all of a sudden, all the peoples of Middle Earth were falling in love with her and vying for her hand. But she understood the part about the ultimate gift. She'd already given it to another.

"No," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Haldir. But I've got my priorities. One love is enough for me. And it can't be you."

"Very well, then. I go to my sentry duties. Should you have need of me at all, you have only to call. I shall now treasure our friendship as it was meant to be, lady."

_So now, are we going to trust Legolas or not, honey-buns?_

Adelaide gritted her teeth. The very idea of that Elf made her mad for some reason. She had gone too far now to turn back, although maybe she wouldn't be completely rude all at once. She was still going to be mad at him. She needed to be mad at someone.

_But that's not fair_, the voice said. _You can't be mad at someone just because you need someone to be mad at._

_Oh yes I do_, she said fiercely._ I don't like him, and that's final._

_But do you?_ Asked another voice, this time sounding like Galadriel.

Adelaide, torn and confused, could not answer it. But she just wanted to stay mad. It seemed childish, but she really did just want to stay angry. Why?

_Because you think you are in love with him; it makes you think you must repulse him because you don't want to be in love with him._

_Is that running from fate?_

_It is not my damned fate to be in the arms of that Elf! Never! I am fated for Frodo, and Frodo alone! I choose my fate. Fate does not choose me. _

_But there is yet something about Legolas that must be pondered. Will you not ponder it?_

Adelaide could not answer.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door. Adelaide groaned. Who was it this time?

"Come in," she said, and in came none other than Legolas Greenleaf.

Speak of the devil…

Adelaide caught her breath. He was wearing only a silver shirt, and his golden hair draped over it like a river of gold, but his eyes in the light were dark and gentle, almost mysterious and probing, deeper than anything else Adelaide knew of. She let her breath fall, and her breast heaved a little, and she let her gaze relax. But then it hardened. She had resolved.

Legolas stared at her, somewhat in shock. What had happened to her? She seemed so thin now, her eyes large and luminous, her breathing shallow, her cheekbones so thin! Why had they not noticed this before? She stood and clasped the robe about her body in a measure of modesty, her fearful eyes traveling up and down his body, taking him in, trying to discern what exactly he could possibly be here for. She seemed even soft, relenting. Wearing a gown sort of did that to a lady's mind. But then her gaze hardened, and she set her jaw.

"I do _not_ want to see you," she said evenly. "Don't even think about it, Elf-boy."

"My name, for the third time, is Legolas Greenleaf," said the Elf. "You have a short memory, lady."

"Takes one to know one. My name, for the hundredth time, is Adelaide."

"You prefer not formal titles?"

"Where I come from, my name is my formal title, and so use it, okay?"

Legolas bit his lip and did not rise to her level. She was being insolent, but he would not lower himself to her level and show rudeness in return. It was rather uncalled for.

So he merely came over and stood quite near to her. "You are not sleeping," he said, with some surprise.

"Am I supposed to?"

"Are you not tired? You look…"

She stared at him, daring him to say more. What he had desired to say was that she looked ill, sick, and deathly pale, but Adelaide laughed, to scorn. "Well now! Let's think about this! Why should Adelaide be tired? She's had a jolly week. Only a few days ago she was running through Moria; she helped fight off orcs and a troll, faced down a fire-demon, lost Gandalf, and got shot in the arm with an arrow. Then we skip merrily into Lothlorien, where she has a wee bit of a screaming argument with a bunch of Elves. She has the first bath she's had in weeks since Rivendell. Okay, now, raise your hand if you can tell why Adelaide might be tired!"

Legolas looked at her, but his gaze was slightly dark, and it did not look well for Adelaide. "Maiden," he said softly. "Why do you not care for my friendship? Day after day have I tried to befriend you; night after night I have tried to think of ways to earn your friendship and a kind smile. Why do you not even look at me? Is there something wrong?"

"Why do you always ask these dumb questions?" asked Adelaide. "Especially when you know that I won't answer them?"

"The answer is beyond me, maiden," he said. "But I have sworn in my heart that I should try my best to have patience with you, and so I shall."

"And so why did you come in here? Nobody asked you."

"Only to see how you are faring," said the Elf. "Aragorn inquired about you; I have come to see that you are doing well."

"I'm doing fine."

"You should be. I see that none of my kin have dared yet to sweep you off your beautiful little feet. Have you seen their faces? Have you heard their murmurings? To see you in Lothlorien is not the least of my desires, and certainly is a blessing for all who walk here. You befit these halls, even as they seem to cradle you as a priceless gem inside the golden circlet."

"Very poetic. Now please leave me alone."

"I shall be pleased when you tell me you shall join us, soon."

"Yeah, well, don't hold your breath. I'm staying right here, and you stick down there, okay?"

At this, Legolas started, as if stung. He closed his eyes and stiffened, even quaking a little. His hands clenched at his sides, and he murmured something in Elvish.

"Glad to know it," said Adelaide. "Now PLEASE go away. I've asked nicely. Don't make me swear like a sailor."

The Elf opened his eyes and stared at her. His lips were tightly compressed, and his whole body was shaking. In fact, it looked as if he had turned pale in sickness. Adelaide glared at him for a while, but finally it occurred to her that perhaps she had done something to make the Elf sick, or upset, or something. She cocked her head.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked. "You're acting sick."

"Who has been here?" Legolas asked, with sudden heat.

"N-n-no one," stammered Adelaide.

"You lie!" the Elf shook with rage.

"Well, okay, so Haldir was here. He just wanted to apologize for his conduct. Is there something wrong with that?"

"What is it that I feel?" said Legolas. "Not only forgiveness, maiden. There is something else."

"Oh, you Elves and your ideas about the mind!" she cried impatiently. "Go away!"

"The mind of an Elf, lady, is deeper than you know," said Legolas. "And yet as I hear it, you have some power in the mind as well, do you not? You mortals speak of Elvish enchantment, but perhaps you have done something yourself, have you not? You have a certain power. And yet you know nothing of that which I speak of. It is his affection for you. He feels it, as well as every other Elf here. No, lady, you may despise Elves, but as I said in Rivendell, you have won our respect and our affection. But there is something in your cheek that gives me to think something else." He moved toward her, reached out a hand, and touched the glowing, flushed cheek. Adelaide flushed even hotter under the touch of the Elf's smooth hand. "There are things which I should like to know, lady, that are given to others," he said, aware that Adelaide was flushing up underneath his hand. "There are thoughts that are given to others, which I have not. And there are things about you that could make a man—yes, even an Elf—die of love for you. Has he your affection?" asked Legolas.

"If you mean love, no, he hasn't got it. I told you before, I've already got a boyfriend—Frodo, remember? I'm not about to go around flirting and acting like a prostitute…I don't want to give my heart out to any ol' Joe-shmoe. Happy now?" Adelaide had to try and be all that she could possibly be…she had to resist the stroking hand…looking death at the Elf, she reached up with her mind and shoved his hand aside.

Legolas stopped shaking and looked at her. Hurt boiled up inside his body; his blood froze inside his veins. It calmed him to know that Haldir hadn't got a hold of Adelaide's heart, but at the same time, he himself didn't have it either. She was beautiful, and she was very cruel. She was something to beware of.

"No," he said softly. "I am not happy. By rights, I ought to punish you for your insolence. But there is something about you which confuses me, and that is the fact that you are confused yourself. Good-night, my lady," he said. "I shall not see you again tonight."

"I hope not," she snarled. "But then, who knows; some idiot may come in without an invitation."

"I knocked, lady. You invited."

Ignoring the look of boiling fury that crossed the girl's face, Legolas left and closed the door behind him. But then he turned, his face a mask of unhappiness, and pressed his silk-smooth lips upon the wood, willing all his power to press upon that door, infect the room, make her feel the pain that he was feeling. Closing his eyes, he could see her, in his heart, struggling and fighting against him. Why? What had he done? He loved her, oh, he loved her so badly; the pain was almost becoming unbearable for him to constrain any more. His throbbing chest, pressed up against the door, pained him; the burning shivers in his lips, quivering to kiss her pained him; the throbbing ache in his groin pained him. He pressed against the door again, in a final effort, and with great pain, restrained himself from bursting in and taking her…no, he could not. He had to be patient.

But even as he took his leave of her, rage boiled up inside Adelaide, and again she was racked with coughing. _Oh, Lord_, she prayed. _I had a chance to make it up to him, and I didn't take it. Why is this happening? I'm so confused! I don't want to love him, but something in me stretches out toward him; it's fighting against the bars of my heart, trying to get out and reach to him. What is this?_

Aragorn knew the "peace-talk" had not gone well at all when Legolas returned to the camp. The man scratched his head, confused to the max. He had hoped that maybe Adelaide would have gotten over her problems with Elves, but it appeared that making friends with Legolas was going to be one of those issues resolved by time. And how bloody long would that take?

A tug came to his coat, and he looked down. Frodo stood at his side, looking lonely and upset.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"That's what I'd like to know," said Boromir. "What have the Elves done to her?"

"Adelaide is safe and sound," returned Aragorn. "She is, I think, resting, isn't she, Legolas?"

"She was not resting when I looked in," said the Elf softly. "She said she was having trouble sleeping."

"Poor girl," said Gimli. "Is she very lonely?"

"I don't believe so," said Legolas, with some heat. Aragorn sighed. Adelaide was a foolish wench, to harbor that damned grudge, and so make life miserable for the only Elf of the Company! But what else could be done? He had talked with her. He had argued with her. He had reasoned with her. And she wasn't giving the Elf much. She preferred to ignore him. What more did she want? Did he have to draw her a picture?

Legolas was already moving off, but Aragorn caught him and led him off to talk to him for a minute.

"What did you say to her?" he asked. Legolas stared at him, almost through him.

"I said nothing that I thought would anger her," he said softly. "Aragorn, I treat her with respect every day. I am not an enemy. What have I done to deserve this?"

Aragorn sighed. "I shall have another talk with her," he said. "The whole affair disgusts me."

"But what have I done?"

"Nothing, Legolas."

"Aragorn, I must know." The Elf was looking at him with wide eyes, a hurting heart, and set lips. It would probably be a good idea to let him know. "Does she not like Elves? But I see no reason why she should hate us. Does she not love the Lord Elrond? The Lady Galadriel? Arwen Undomiel? And now she is friends with _Haldir_!"

"Haldir? Good Lord. What brought that around?"

"The [Elven expletive] wormed his way into her room and sweetened her with apologies and compliments," Legolas gritted his teeth, and his eyes flashed. "I daresay she does not know an Elven lie when she hears one."

"Oh, and you happen to know that it was a lie?" Aragorn considered Legolas for a moment. Jealousy often made Elves speak out against one another, and it was quite possible that, if Haldir had been in to see the girl, he probably did so for only one reason, one that Legolas didn't like at all. "Go on," he said, wearily. "What did she say?"

"She was rude and unresponsive to me. Haldir has her friendship. Why may not I?" Legolas shook in his anger. "I would give a whole forest full of silver and gold for her, Aragorn. She is like nothing I have ever known before…wild, free, and so beautiful. Her eyes are mystic and wishful, but they have the light of laughter in them, and she is like a star during the night, while in the morning she is like a deer, free, beautiful, and fleet of foot. I would give anything for her, Aragorn. If only she would even care to talk to me…" his voice broke off.

Aragorn sighed, wishing that Cupid, or whoever the god of love was in Middle Earth, had not hit this particular Elf with an arrow.

"I adore the ground she walks upon; I would do anything to but imprint my lips on it," continued the Elf, turning from his friend. "I almost feel unworthy to even kiss her pretty foot. But I have never before experienced this burning pain, Aragorn. I know not how to go on without her."

"Legolas," said Aragorn. "I do not understand why you should love her so much. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Did you not know that she already has a lover?"

Legolas did not flinch. He pressed his lips together tightly, and murmured loftily, through clenched teeth, "I assume you are referring to our _hobbit_ Ringbearer."

Ah, so he _did_ know. But that knowledge was filled with scorn. Aragorn crossed his arms. Too many people believed that the love between a human and a hobbit could be so ridiculous, but Aragorn was a human in love with an Elf, and the match made perfect sense to him. So he could hardly be blamed when he glared at Legolas, ready to defend Frodo and Adelaide to the death at that moment.

"You _knew,_ Legolas? You knew of her love? Why disrupt it? Frodo adores her. You've seen how it is only he who can touch her heart. And she is faithful. There is a small chance of ever receiving her love. You came into her life at the wrong time, I'm afraid." Aragorn just felt embarrassed about the whole darn thing. "Just leave her alone for now. Let her accept your friendship on her own terms, in her own time. She's not ready yet, Legolas. Her actions today…" he trailed off. "Something about her past," he mused. "Results are still very fresh in her mind. She remembers. Legolas, be patient with her. One by one, she may trust us and come to love us all. But give her time. How did she look when you went in?"

Legolas looked at him. "Like one who is near death," he said quietly. "And she coughs a good deal. But the air of Lothlorien may be different than what she is accustomed to."

"Legolas, you know just as well as I do that this is a place of healing, and why it should make her ill is therefore beyond me. If you like, I shall talk with her. In the meantime, where are you going?"

"I am going to be with my kin," said Legolas softly. "I shall be back in the morning." And with those soft words, he departed. Aragorn stood still, wishing that he wasn't the one doing the go-between. But it was fair play. Adelaide was, after all, helping him with Arwen, and it seemed to him that she was already having a rough time with all the males wanting to earn her love. He shivered. Great Valar, but he wouldn't have liked it one little bit.

He felt another tug, and Frodo looked up at him. "I want to see her," he said. "Take me to her."

"You should rest, Frodo," said Aragorn. But he suddenly saw something in the hobbit that he had not seen before; it was a longing in his eyes, and a loneliness that he himself had known, when missing Arwen. Although the hobbit was fifty, and Adelaide was only twenty-three, there was a great deal of love between them. It was a crazy world. The man smiled.

"Of course," he said. "Come with me."

He led Frodo through the winding trees, and finally stepped up the stairway to a tall tree. At the top, there was something like a cocoon; a little nest woven out of the branches of the trees. It looked very much like the bud on a flower. Frodo climbed up behind Aragorn, and then stood in front of the door. Aragorn knocked, and then listened.

"Oh, for God's sake, what now? Legolas, if that's you, please go away. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Adelaide, for heaven's sake, it's Aragorn," the man scolded. He turned to Frodo. "If you don't mind," he said. "I would like to also talk to Adelaide, for only a few minutes. I will not be long. Wait outside for me."

The man entered the little room and squatted down in front of the girl. She was cross-legged on the floor, arms crossed like a sulking child, her eyebrows knit together in frustration and anger.

"Adelaide," said Aragorn sternly. "Adelaide, look at me."

She raised her head, and pierced him with her eyes, daring him to say what was really on his mind. And it was certainly not the light that made her seem pale. He put his hands on her face. Then, without any other preliminaries, he took her into his arms, and hugged her. Then he tilted her chin up to look into her eyes, and started off with a teasing remark.

"You know," he ventured. "I think I love you a lot more when you're smiling."

Adelaide sniffed. "Yeah, well, tell Legolas to leave me alone, since you seem to be the mediator between us. Legolas said something to you. He did, didn't he?"

"Er, I stopped him and made him talk," said Aragorn. Adelaide nodded, encouraging him to continue. Aragorn sighed. "Adelaide, I've had enough of all this. You'll get along with Elrond, Arwen, and any other Elf, but Legolas you absolutely despise. What is wrong with you? Don't you see that he loves you?"

"Well sure! Why do you think I'm repulsing him? You'd think he'd get the hint by this time!"

"Well, obviously he has not."

"I've tried everything that I could think of. I even told him I was already dating! But does he listen? No! A gentleman would back off. But he's the most annoying pest since—"

Suddenly, her body convulsed, and she coughed violently, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes squelched shut and her body rocking back and forth. Pain shattered the insides of her being, and her head spun with pain. Aragorn, concerned, gave her a handkerchief, but not before he saw the blood on her hand. His eyes widened, and he gave her a shocked look. She stared into his eyes.

"Yes, it's blood. Don't look as though you've never seen it."

"You _are_ ill."

"I'm not."

"My girl coughing fit to break her ribcage, and spitting up blood...don't tell me you're not ill, Adelaide!"

"It's my own business," Adelaide snapped.

"Your business happens to be my business," Aragorn replied sharply. "Particularly when it comes to your health. I have worked beside healers before. Will you not let me help you?"

Adelaide shook her head. "I think it'll pass."

"How long has this been going on?"

"My cough started when I came here. I noticed blood years ago, at Bilbo's farewell party. That was at least seventeen years and six months ago."

Aragorn stared at her. "You lied to us, Adelaide. You lied at the Council. You knew you were ill, and yet you chose to say nothing—nay, you told us you had no illness! Would that Gandalf were here! How dare you do this, Adelaide! Are you mad? To hide this from us—"

"I'm not hiding it now, am I?"

"A fine time to...! Oh Adelaide!" Aragorn looked pityingly at her. "You should have told someone. You should have gotten help."

"Yes, well, I didn't, and too bad for me," Adelaide snapped. "I thought it would let up. It hasn't bothered me until just now, honest. It seems to come around especially whenever I'm angry, or when I use my mind to throw things." She smiled briefly. "I think it'll go away. But for Pete's sake, don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Frodo. He will flip his wig, I am not kidding you. And the other hobbits will probably go into major mini-hysterics. They know nothing about this. Keep it under your greasy mop-top, okay?"

"I think it might be better if you had that seen to. But, if it is your desire, I will not speak of this to anyone. In return, I ask you, at least, to let me examine you later."

"And for the love of God, don't tell Legolas either. That's the bloody fucking last thing I need...an Elf going mushy on me because I have a mortal illness."

"Adelaide, will you listen to yourself? Honestly, you are the only lass I have ever met who would repulse the friendship of an Elf!"

"There's always a first time, buddy. And he isn't offering me friendship. I'm not ready for what Legolas offers. I don't think he knows what he's offering. And I don't think he fully understands what he'd be getting. Don't act so damn naïve. I've seen his eyes. You want to know where they're fastened? Not on my face, I'll tell you that."

"Adelaide," he said severely. "Stop thinking of yourself, for a moment, and consider Legolas. He is confused. He is frightened that you do not care for him even as a friend. Elves can die of a broken heart," he added. "We need Legolas, just as much as we need you. Don't you dare turn our Fellowship into a morgue!"

"It isn't my fault! Tell him to lay off! I love Frodo, and the stupid Elf needs to take a hint! But I'm willing, for your sake, to try and be nice to him. Is that alright?"

"Perfectly. Shall I tell him anything tonight?"

"No, no, don't. I'd rather you didn't."

Aragorn, sensing the need for privacy, opened the door, let Frodo in, and then closed it without a sound behind them.

Then he left.

There were just some things he didn't understand about women.

Adelaide was seated on the floor when Frodo came in, but when she looked up, Frodo did a double-take and peered curiously at her.

"Darling, what's wrong?" He knelt on the floor and took her face between his two hands, marveling how her soft cheeks fit so snugly into his little palms.

"Nothing."

"Honey, you know by now that excuse isn't passable with me."

"Oh for cryin' out loud…when a woman's got to cry, let her cry, okay? It's a bunch of things these days. I just need to soak the floor, alright?"

Frodo smiled helplessly. "Don't drown me," he chuckled. Then he frowned. "This is ridiculous. I love you, and I want to take care of you. You, on the other hand, little Miss Independent, want to look after yourself. You know your own business, I'm sure. But only a fool would overlook the fact that you've been in a terrible state ever since Moria. Look at you, you're pale as death! You're in no shape to do anything! Why did we ever let you—"

She grabbed him to silence him, to press him close and drown out the doubts and anger that assailed her like a tidal wave. So much for a place of peace.

"Well," Frodo said, muffled between her breasts. "This is most interesting, lass, but I'll wager there's more to this than meets the eye."

"I'm just really tired, and people won't leave me alone."

"Tired, my foot. If you're tired, I'm a cucumber. You're sick."

"Sick of Legolas," Adelaide muttered.

"What has that Elf been doing here?" Frodo snapped. "What's he doing to you, Adelaide? It tells me just about as much as a turtle on a rock does!"

"You'd be surprised at how much I learned from one."

Frodo glared at her.

Adelaide crossed her arms and glared back. And Frodo, for the first time, read uncertainty and hesitation in her eyes. He saw a struggle there and her own anger at the Elf. However, Frodo was aware of only one thing: his suspicions had been correct, and Legolas was bothering his girl. Anger flared up inside of him.

"Adelaide, why didn't you tell me sooner!" he cried. "You should have. What have I told you about trust? Instead, you go to Aragorn for help; you don't even consider how I feel, and then there's Boromir—"

"What the hell has Boromir got to do with it? So the man's got a crush on me. So what? It's Legolas I'm trying to get off my back!"

"I think you have less to worry about with an Elf than you do with a man," Frodo said coolly. "This isn't a mere crush the man has, and I think you know it."

"Oh Frodo, the man hasn't got anything else on his mind except the you-know-what. I'm just the pretty little girl along for the ride, and if he could take his mind off the Thing, he might try and get a few hits in, but he can't, so I'm safe. Legolas, on the other hand, needs to chill in the icebox for a few months. And don't tell me that I don't consider how you feel. I love you to death, and I want to be with you...you think _you_ want to get cuddly; I want full-blown intercourse, and I have to be patient about the entire issue! I want to be with you every second, and when I can't, it's all I can do to keep on going, to be strong. You haven't the slightest idea."

"I might have, if you'd tell me," Frodo said gently, bringing her close and kissing her forehead. "We've changed slightly on the trip, but it doesn't mean we love each other any less. In fact, why don't we take some time now?" he smiled playfully and picked up her hand, tracing its features quietly. "I would love to give you a bit of love right now, my girl. You haven't the slightest idea either, how much I wish we could lay down together right here, and make love...don't think I haven't wanted to plunge right down into your depths either," Frodo murmured against her hair. He took her hand and guided it to his groin. "Feel that?" he whispered, straining to contain his passion. "That's how much I want you right now. I may be shorter than you, but my desire is certainly no small thing."

"You're romantic when you can feel like it," Adelaide mumbled, very embarrassed. "Darling, don't squish me."

"I wouldn't hurt you," he whispered, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a succulent, sweet kiss. "You know I wouldn't."

Adelaide did nothing, said nothing; she let him touch, let him feel. She nearly let herself slide into bliss again. Frodo shivered. So close, yet so far away. He didn't have the heart left to strike her for her harsh words, when she let him cup her face like that...she needed to be loved, wanted to be loved, and she somehow...did she want it from him? Of course she did; she was nestling up to him and relaxing in the warmth of his touch, and as sensations of sweet desire and abandon possessed him, Frodo drew her fondly closer, and nuzzled her throat. Adelaide sighed, feeling as though she would cry at any given moment.

"I want to feel strong," she said. "I hate feeling weak! I don't like it when I can't fend for myself, when everybody has to do everything for me…when they feel sorry for me and try to help me and don't let me figure life out by myself…it feels like I'm in a cage, and I just want out!"

"Adelaide, you only hurt yourself more by saying that," Frodo argued. "You're not in a cage. You can't possibly understand just how crucial it is for all of us to take care of each other, especially now! We want to help you because we love you, not because we think you're any less strong than Aragorn or Boromir. Please..." he let his hand slide down to cradle her jaw, and then his finger stretched to find the sweet outline of her lips, and she was burning hot under his touch, but she said nothing, only seemed to relax in his hand. Frodo made a valiant attempt to soothe her. "Go ahead and cry," he whispered. "If that's what you need to do, fear not. Go ahead. I won't scold you."

Adelaide blinked and then burst out into tears on his shoulder, crying as if there were no tomorrow. She was getting his shirt wet, but did that matter to one hobbit, who would have given all of Bag End, the Shire, and ten million adventures, just to hold her in a moment like this one? Did it matter that she was two feet taller than himself, crying like a baby on his shoulder, her weight a little more than he was accustomed to, when he had been longing for such closeness for weeks? He buried his fingers in her hair, stroked her back; did everything possible to give her comfort of the body. And when she finally calmed down and sat up, rubbing at her tear-streaked eyes, did it matter to him that her face was all blotchy and red? The scent of her body lingered on his clothes, and traces of her hair-scent was still upon his fingers. The warmth they had shared still remained imprinted on his body.

"Shh, Adelaide, shh. Hush now," he soothed. "I want you to sleep. Can you promise me that you'll go to sleep?"

"I can't," said Adelaide. "I'm aching all over, and I'm really hungry."

"Try," Frodo insisted. "Just try, Adelaide. I'll sing you something, if you like."

Adelaide smiled brightly through her shining tears, like stars glittering upon her soft, smooth skin. She seemed so peaceful now, tears dry, and cheeks still damp, her eyes gently blinking. She was breathing so softly, her whole body surrendered to him.

"To think," she murmured. "That when I first saw you, I thought you were the coldest, most reclusive little bastard ever."

He laughed. "Maybe," he responded. "I thought you were the most vivacious creature I'd ever seen. And you had so much energy. But what a temper!"

Adelaide smiled. "What did you ever see in me, Frodo? A girl like me, far away from another time and space, rude, crude, and sometimes too hot to handle?"

Frodo nuzzled her ear. "You've got spirit, I'll say that much," he said. "And I remember, once, when I came back from a hard day's work and found you asleep on the couch. You looked so peaceful, then, so beautiful, and I thought…I thought of what it would be like to possess you. You are alive and beautiful and caring and…and I just love you for yourself," he said tenderly.

"Really?" Adelaide breathed. Her eyes lit up with urgency. "Then show me," she commanded quickly, in one breath. "Please."

Frodo burst out laughing. "I can see it's no use trying to get you to sleep. Something is on your mind…as it is on mine."

"Huh, it better be."

Frodo smiled and leaned forward again, capturing his lover's mouth with his own, covering her body with a rainfall of stroking fingers, pushing the gown off her shoulders and applying his hot, hungry mouth to the white roundness of her breasts. His hand reached up against her back, pressing her more tightly against his lips, tasting her deeply and lovingly. His kiss was not urgent, but loving, it asked for what she would and could never refuse him. She arched into his embrace, her fingers finding the buttons in the back of the gown, undoing them even as her lover massaged and kneaded her breasts, his lips finding the tender spots along her collarbone and throat. When she pushed the gown off to her waist, the hobbit pushed the skirt up. Adelaide felt herself lean backwards onto the smooth ground of the fletch, and suddenly, Frodo's thickened erection pressed against her naked thigh, bare and exposed in the air. Adelaide felt him shower her breasts and ribcage with kisses (he couldn't reach her mouth), and then her breath caught in her throat as he began thrusting at her protected entrance. If she hadn't been wearing underwear, Adelaide might have been deflowered at that moment, and so much for virginity. But she wrapped her legs around him anyway, as best she could (the size was so awkward), and rode him even as he gasped and sweated, his feverish little body finally climaxing in one sigh between clenched teeth. Adelaide smiled and unwound her legs.

"That was incred."

"I wish it were the real thing."

"It is real. But let's hope for better things down the road." She kissed him again, fully, sensually, possessively. Frodo responded playfully.

"Going to sleep, now?'

"After an orgasm like that, I'd better." 

He walked back to the Fellowship in silence, but every single person there was not unaware that something had just taken place. The Ringbearer had a dopey grin on his face, and his hair was mussed. Merry and Pippin rolled their eyes. Aragorn smiled fondly at him, and Sam blushed. Gimli snored loudly. But Boromir glared at Frodo, his nose wrinkling in disgust and anger. The Ring might have been on his mind, but was certainly not first and foremost, as Adelaide had thought. No, when Frodo looked over at the man, he swiftly looked away again. Boromir's eyes were accusing, proud, and scornful. Finally, he prodded into the hobbit's innermost thoughts.

"I trust Adelaide is doing well, little one?"

"Oh yes. She's quite comfortable now, and sleeping well."

"I marvel how you have managed to help her sleep so quickly."

Frodo did not exactly know how to take this statement, so he coolly ignored it. But Boromir, big, fat, pain-in-the-ass Boromir, wouldn't let the subject drop.

"Why you, Ringbearer?" he asked. "You seem to have her love, even though she denies giving it to anyone."

Frodo was annoyed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "She gives her love only to those whom she favors. She must have others that she loves. But if she loves me, I could only be grateful. Really, I don't think I deserve much at her hands. There is nothing more to be said on the matter."

"Perhaps not," said the man. "And yet I cannot help but think you hide most of the truth. The lady favors you. The whole Company knows it."

"And why should they not?" Frodo asked. "If she favors me, and she decides to make it known, it's no concern of mine. I'm happiest when she is. Besides, Adelaide does not like secrets among friends. 'They make baby Jesus cry,' whatever that means."

"Of course," Boromir said in a friendly voice. "I apologize. I meant not to probe. But tell me, do you not think that her love might be better spent with those her own age, and of the same race?"

Frodo shifted uncomfortably, turning slightly red, but he was not embarrassed on that account. It was only slightly disturbing that the man should speak so openly of it. Even Adelaide spoke freely and openly about love and relationships, so perhaps it was a Big Person thing, but he did not like the way the man probed into his love, a hobbit's love, and not a man's love. It was unfair, and really quite rude. The man had said some intolerable things.

"What has that to do with it?" Frodo asked.

"Well, why should she choose, say, a dwarf as her lover? Does it make any sense to you, O Guardian of the Lady, that she should pick outside her race?"

No. It didn't make a shit-worth of sense to the hobbit, and he didn't know how to explain it. He felt himself blessed beyond comparison. "Adelaide is a free lover. If she loved an orc, she would make her choice accordingly. The heart has no limits or boundaries. Besides, you ought to know that she is from a land that revels in individuality. If she chose to marry a black man, or even an Asian, what is that to us? It's her business whom she chooses."

"Perhaps," Boromir said, turning over. "And yet I will sleep on it. It does indeed seem strange that you should know her so well...that you, the Ringbearer, should control a woman with such power. How do you know she may not be using you for her own purposes? After all, she longs for her home. Why should she remain here and marry? But what denies her right to pleasure?"

Frodo whipped his head around. "How dare you! You sit there and dare to tell me to my face that my Adelaide uses me for pleasure?"

"You yourself have been with her for years, and yet you are not married. Have you considered this?" Boromir argued. "Far be it from me to assume. That is for the lowly of this world, is it not?"

Frodo trembled angrily. "I have not asked her; she's never probed, and she would not say 'no.'"

"Would she not? Are you afraid that she might refuse you?" Boromir's soft voice was suddenly full of accusation. "For if you are the one who is afraid, then indeed she is not to blame. I dare not say to your face that you are using her. But think of it, Halfling. She does not fare well by you, and I think you know it."

Frodo glared at him as he settled down into sleep. Boromir was a pain in the wooly foot, and his obvious interest in Adelaide didn't help the situation. But the man's words had struck a nerve deep down inside him, and one that flooded his heart with worry. True, Adelaide had never said anything about marriage, but he himself had never asked her, even after all that time they had spent together! Why was he hesitating? Was he truly afraid of losing her? Of hearing her sad voice give him an unwanted answer?

"He's got a point, Frodo," Merry said hesitantly. Pippin nodded.

"Why don't you marry her, Frodo?"

"If you haven't noticed, marriage is a little difficult right now," Frodo snapped. "It's a lot to ask of her, to drop everything and settle with me in the Shire. It means giving up her whole universe! I don't want to put that burden on her yet. Besides, there is this quest. I cannot just ask her in the middle of a quest whether or not she would like to marry me!"

"A fine time to be thinking that," Merry replied. "You'll have her all confused if you debate like that. Give it to her straight-forward, with no nonsense, now! You're in love with her, aren't you? Or at least you are, but you either don't want to be or don't feel anything."

"I am in love with her. And she with me. We both know it. It's just difficult to ask her."

Frodo lay down in his little bed and tried not to think about all of it too hard. He had never considered before that his relationship might be damaging to Adelaide. He had never seen it from the angle that Boromir had placed before him, and it frightened him. He did not want to lose Adelaide.

He did not want to lose her love.


	24. Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Chapter 25

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Frodo had not snoozed for very long when he awoke. He was startled out of his dream, and as he looked about, he saw a flash of gentle white among the trees. Galadriel! His heart leaped. The Elven queen was about, her beauty flashing amid the trees, like one unseen. How beautiful, how wise, and how gentle she was! Surely she might put his mind at rest. What was he to do?

Carefully he arose and walked past his sleeping friends. Ever so quietly, he walked along the pathways, following the glimmering white, without noise. Galadriel walked quickly, without shoes, but with sad silence of one who has seen many years. Poor queen, so fair, and yet so proud! Surely she had the answer he was looking for.

Galadriel hurried down some steps, and came into a little clearing, where flowed a little waterfall and there also was a little standing pillar, on which was carved a stone bowl. Galadriel came to the well and water fall, and here looked upon the twining flowers that decorated the woven branches hiding secretly, the source of the water. Twilight sparkled in her eyes, and gentle was the sound of her breathing, so that she might have been called a young girl. Taking a pitcher as silver as starlight, she dipped it into the pool of water there, and then turned. Frodo stood, not quite sure at all why he had come now.

"Do you wish to look in the mirror of Galadriel?' asked Galadriel. Frodo came on as if in a trance.

"What will I see?" he asked.

"Even the wisest cannot tell," said Galadriel, smiling strangely and then, with a lift of her hand, started pouring water into the bowl. "The mirror shows many things. Things that were. Things that are. And some things…that have not yet come to pass."

Frodo wasn't at all sure he wanted to look. But there really was no way out of this. She had challenged him, so to speak, and he really did want a little peep. Standing up to the well, or mirror, he looked. He saw only the reflection of stars. Then the "glass" changed, and he saw different members of the Fellowship, each looking back at him with regret, as if they were sorrowful or annoyed with him. Then again, the water changed, and Frodo saw his home, the Shire, being raided. Orcs and terrible things were hacking up hobbits, burning hobbit holes, and digging up all the beautiful gardens! Fire belched, and blood-smeared orcs screamed with laughter as they whipped Samwise Gamgee. There were hobbits all chained up, and working machinery. The days of food, music, and laughter were gone; it was death now; death and pain and slavery. Frodo trembled at all of this. And then he saw Adelaide.

She was sitting outside of a tent in a land he did not recognize; thousands of black mountains backed her, and she had her fair face turned to the stars above. A small smile was on her face, but her eyes were filled with sorrow, and her body seemed tired and worn out. A single tear rolled from her cheek as she pressed her lips together to keep from crying too hard. Frodo heard her voice, even though she did not move her lips.

_Where am I? Middle Earth! Where? I thought I came from somewhere else, but I can't remember it. There is a pit in the world, and I cannot see the light elsewhere. Why did he leave me? What am I doing here? What's the point of it? God, death were better. _

Frodo trembled. "No," he whispered. "Adelaide, no…no, please, no!"

The Eye of Sauron melded into this vision, burning away the last bit of Adelaide's screaming, writhing hatred, consuming it and laughing at it with superior force. Frodo heard the hated voice; he saw the hated malice. Steam and smoke rose from the mirror. The Ring slipped out from his shirt, and edged toward the mirror. He could feel the temptations; he could feel everything; all of it; the pain and the sufferings.

"_Death were better!"_

"NO!" cried Frodo and jerked himself back to the ground, tearing the chain and Ring off his throat at the same time.

Galadriel only looked at them.

"I know what is was you saw," she said. "For it is also in my mind! No one knows what the mirror will show! Even I, Galadriel, Queen of Elves know naught of what I will see. It is a foreboding of the future, a reminder of the past, and a light on things that are."

Frodo stood and faced Galadriel. He held out the Ring. He was ready to give it up to someone much wiser than he. He wanted to go and see Adelaide again, and stroke her hair, and comfort her; he wanted to make sure that she was real and safe.

"I will give you the One Ring, if you desire it," he said.

_It is too great a matter for me; I want to go back to the Shire with Adelaide and make love to her; I want to keep her safe with me; I don't want to do this anymore! I hate this! This isn't for me! I'm too small…what can I do against something so great and powerful?_

Galadriel smiled at him.

"You give it to me freely?" she asked, coming towards him. Her hand was outstretched, as if the temptation was truly tempting her. "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this. And in place of a Dark Lord, you will set up a Queen!"

Suddenly, the Elf queen totally transformed. Lifting her hands, she suddenly became large, powerful, and terrible. Dark were her eyes, and rays shot from her body. Quaking and terrible, she rose above the frightened, tiny hobbit, powerful, huge, and unstoppable. "And I will not be dark, but beautiful as the sun and terrible as an army! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! More powerful than anything in Middle Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

Her voice became like the night, and Frodo heard Sauron's voice interwoven with hers. Galadriel was lit up like the night, dark and terrible, powerful and strong! No longer a lady of light but of darkness and evil! Should the Ring come to her! Would this happen?

Then Galadriel stopped quaking, and became a small, shrunken Elf woman again. And she smiled gently.

"I pass the test," she said, breathlessly. "I shall go into the West, and remain Galadriel."

"But I cannot do this alone!" cried Frodo.

Galadriel bent down. "To be a Ring-bearer is to be alone," she said. She stretched out her hand, and Frodo saw a Ring, flickering like a frosty star upon her finger. "This is Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, and I am its Keeper. I am alone in my task of keeping it safe. I am alone in my thoughts, visions, and feelings. This task was appointed to you. If you cannot find a way, then no one will."

_Your place will not be by her when you go. You shall see her in the end._

_But what end will that be?_ _When she is dead? That was not truly her that I saw, it couldn't have been!_

_She carries a cross now, and a bigger burden than you, for as she travels and makes connections, her heart cannot help but hold this land in her heart, and her desire to protect it grows stronger. She has such hope that you can never fear her doubt. Her test of strength is within you. You cannot doubt her now. She passed her test when she came here. I still feel it in her; she has still passed the test. You need not fear. Yet I see that she will see something in another, one who you cannot see clearly now, but will be revealed in time_.

_Then she will love another!_ Frodo was frantic.

_Only because you shall fail against her_. _Only because you shall give in to another powerful force._

_Never!_ the hobbit thought fiercely. _I shall never give into anything that will turn her away from me!_

_You are stubborn, even as she is. But it is her duty to hold on. You cannot take her with you. _

_I will not give her up!_

_I am not asking you to surrender her. But if you take her with you now, you will kill her. _

Frodo was silent.

_I, kill her?_

_It is not your fate to take her; it is not her fate to go with you now, but to prove herself through her thread in the land. For you are only a small part of the larger picture; you are a vehicle by which the land will take her to its heart. You hold the key. It must not be lost or hoarded. She must play her part. And know, little Ringbearer, you cannot take her. The time of fulfillment has not yet come._

_What fulfillment is that?_

_I cannot explain to you, for it is not for you to understand. It is that which will reach even outside our time. _

Frodo's eyes filled with tears.

"Then I know what I must do," he said softly. "It's just that...I'm afraid to do it."

The Lady sighed. "Even the smallest can change the course of the future," she said gently.

It was a long night.

The next morning dawned fair and clear. Adelaide awoke to the rousing of an Elven maid. She sat up and stretched. She had somehow never slept better in her life. She was feeling just grand. Last night's events washed totally from her mind, she hopped out of bed and grinned at her portrait in the mirror. Ah-ha! Today she didn't look so bad. Was it perhaps possible that the rosiness of her cheeks had returned? And did her eyes deceive her, or did she seem the curvacious minx again, without looking like the Grim Reaper? Yes! Ah-ha! Life was suddenly very good. She grinned at the maid who was entering.

"Howdy," she drawled. "I am ready for a day of travel. Places to go! Things to see! Things to do! Gotta go with my pals, you know!"

"If it please you, lady, you will wait," said the maid. "You ought to know that it is no time for rushing. I have your clean clothes here. You shall be joined to your Fellowship soon enough."

"Why not now?" teased Adelaide. "Oh, I get it. I can't go wandering about in a gown. Well, I suppose I'll have to fix that. Thanks for my clothing. What's for grub?"

"I suppose you mean food," the maiden said. "You shall have that when you rejoin the Fellowship. Your things are packed already; you have only to dress."

"Cool," said Adelaide. "I'm so excited today. We're off again. And it's really pretty here! I can smell the clean air. I feel just…just…like a bird!" she exclaimed. The maiden smiled.

"I shall leave you to your dressing, and then, if I may, might I have the honor of tending to your dressage?"

"My what?"

"Your dressage. Might I clean and dress you, and attend your face and hair adornments?"

"Oh...uh...sure. I guess we can do that."

It felt different, she decided, to let another person bathe and dress her, for as far as she was concerned, she'd been independent for years, and wasn't about to let someone else take over the job. Still, the pampering felt nice, and she felt rightfully that she looked a lot nicer too, a good deal changed from the grubby little trekker across the geography of Middle Earth. And all the while, she talked about different things; how cool everyone in the Fellowship was, and what was going on with the journey, and how everything was going, and so on, so on. At last, Adelaide leaped up and ran down from her little room, walking across the courtyard to where the Fellowship was still sleeping. Adelaide was amused. Taking a leaf, she came over to Aragorn, who was hugging his pillow. She tickled his ear, and he mumbled in his sleep.

"Now, no more of that, Arwen," he said. Adelaide clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and went on to Boromir, who slept with his mouth open. She tickled his chin. No results. Hm. Funny. Then she moved on to Gimli. She tickled his nose, and he waved at it sleepily with his hand, as if warding off a fly. Next she moved on to the hobbits. In Sam there was no reaction, Pippin muttered something about "more lembas," and Merry snored. But when Adelaide came to Frodo, she paused for a minute and then let him alone. She wasn't about to be playful with him just yet. But Frodo awoke and propped himself up on his pillows, looking at her intently.

"Adelaide."

"Morning, love."

"Are you alright?"

"Am I supposed to be otherwise?"

"I just wanted to know."

"I'm just fine. Had a decent sleep at any rate. And you?"

"Decent," he replied softly. Adelaide shrugged. She had no idea what Frodo had seen; all she knew was that he was acting weird. She twirled her feather, intending on finding Legolas. But the Elf was nowhere to be found. She was going to tickle him too, and so try to be in somewhat of a better mood. But she couldn't find him. Oh well. She shrugged her shoulders. What did it matter to her? She didn't really care. She'd find another time to make it up to him. She smiled down at Frodo.

"You're thinking too hard," she insisted, sitting down beside him. "I see that look in your eye, and it tells me you've something on your mind."

Oh, how he did! But how to tell her? Frodo abandoned himself for the present into her arms, like a child who has fears of a monster under the bed. Adelaide held him, surprised at his ferocity and surprised too, at her own instinctual maternity. Her arms were strong, holding him tightly and warmly against her firm warm bosom, and her hands stroked his hair, attempting to calm his fears and smooth away any ruffles he might have. Her scent was overpowering; it was as if he had dived back under the covers of his own bed in Bag End, cozy, safe, and warm.

"Well," she said softly. "You are a card, Frodo Baggins."

"Am I?" he smiled at her.

"Yeah. You are. The Ace, to be precise. Or maybe a two of diamonds. Something of that nature. Let me go and let me wake up the camp, will you?"

Then she stood in the middle of the camp. Elves were already busy with their daily duties, so it really didn't matter if they heard her or not. Opening her mouth, she let out a perfectly-pitched high C. Instantly the Company was on their feet, and Frodo was on the ground in laughter.

"Adelaide!" cried Boromir. "It is still early."

"Nobody cares," said Adelaide, laughing. "I got you up, at any rate. You were about to sleep away the day."

"What time is it?" asked Aragorn. Adelaide checked her watch.

"Eight," she said.

"Adelaide, that stupid watch is always at eight," said Pippin, rubbing his eyes. "You forgot that it still works in your modern-day world, and not here."

"Then quit asking me for the time, dummy."

"Well, you're in good spirits," yawned Gimli. "Whatever did you do last night?"

"I slept," laughed Adelaide. "And I dreamed about ice-cream with chocolate on top. That'd make anyone happy. A good rest is great for the weary body. Anyway, what's for grub?"

Aragorn yawned. "Bread, fruit, and water," he said. "That is a typical Elvish breakfast. Anything else you might desire?"

"That'll be just fine," said Adelaide. "By the way, you talk in your sleep."

"I do?" Aragorn looked amused. "And what were the details?"

"Secret," said Adelaide. "Can't tell."

"Well, very well, maid. I'll tackle you later."

"I'll watch my back, then," said Adelaide cheerfully. "Grub, ho!"

They ate in their little camp, and gracious Elves gave them their food. Now and then, a few Elves would come and talk with them, but when they had cleared away the dishes, and had gone, Adelaide asked Aragorn to give her an account of what the day would be like.

"We are to start out again," he said. "I think we shall travel by boat this time, down the Anduin. We head south-west."

"Cool," said Adelaide. "Anybody know how to handle a boat?"

At last the Fellowship reached the banks of the Anduin, where the forest met the river. The day looked as if it would be perfectly lovely, even for a swim. Pink clouds were forming away near the mountain-tops, and the sun streamed through them like light through a pink glass window, melting upon every tree and leaf, turning the forest into a place of magical beauty, and splendor. The quiet waters glistened, and lapped ever to softly at the shores. Up above the banks was a green lawn, and upon this lawn sat Celeborn and Galadriel, and they were wearing white and silver garments. The sun shone upon the Lady's fair face, and put a halo about her golden head. Gentle was her face that morning. Behind them stood four maidens, dressed in blue, and four Elven-lads, dressed in gray-silver. In their hands, they held gifts; tokens of farewell for the guests. Solemn were their faces, and yet they seemed to almost enjoy the air that morning; it was sweet and crisp, yet so warm and tender upon faces. It made one want to smile, or even laugh.

And then the Lady stood, and with her also stood Celeborn, and so the Fellowship stood in a line before them. And the Lady spoke. "Dark are the hours in which you are to go forward," she said. "Yet all have resolved to move forward, without looking back. Come now! See, we have prepared for you gifts that will aid you on your quest." And turning to Celeborn she took from him what looked like towels, only that when she undid them, they weren't towels but cloaks, Elvish cloaks, for the long journey. These beautiful garments looked gray, but weren't any particular shade of coloring; the Elves, as Galadriel told them, had put their love of nature and color into these garments, and would aid them in melting into the forest landscape, or any other landscape, like a mirage in the desert (or a chameleon, as Adelaide thought). They fastened at the throat with an Elven brooch, shaped like a leaf, with silver threading. Upon the backs of the Fellowship the maidens and lads put these cloaks, and fastened them at their throats. Adelaide liked the feel of the gentle cloaks. They were soft, and felt good to the touch.

"Wow," she said softly to herself. "Now I feel really Middle-Earthen. This beats it all."

"Never before have we cloaked strangers in our own garb before," said Celeborn softly. "May they serve you well, and give you protection in the wilderness from unfriendly eyes."

Next, the Lady turned to each of the maids and lads, and took from them their gifts, handing them to each member of the Fellowship. First, she turned to Boromir. To him, she gave a belt of gold, and gave him a blessing. Boromir blushed, and one had to wonder whether or not he had the same feelings about Galadriel that he once did. Then she turned to Legolas.

"My gift to you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." Legolas took up the bow. It was beautifully crafted, and strung with Elf hair. With this also went a new quiver with a large number of arrows. Legolas took this all up and tested his new bow, handling it with love and awe. But then the Lady leaned and handed him another small package, whispering in his ear. Legolas smiled. Adelaide was just sure that it had something to do with her, but she contained herself. So the Lady wanted to give him a love potion. So what? She would simply have to take care of her canteen.

Then the Lady turned to Gimli. "And what gift would a dwarf ask of the Elves?" she asked, so kindly, that the dwarf shuffled his feet and mumbled.

"Nothing, Lady," he said, turning red. "Save to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time."

"Hear all ye Elves!" said the Lady, smiling. "Never again shall it be said that dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet you shall not part without a gift, Gimli, son of Gloin. Name it, I beg you."

Gimli fell to mumbling again. "Well, I, uh, was rather thinking about…no, no, that's not a good idea, Gimli you idiot, uh…oh, it's such a stupid request…"

The Lady waited, a smile set upon her features.

In the end, Gimli named his request. And thus did the Lady smile, and give him what he desired: not one, but three golden hair tresses from her head.

Merry and Pippin were given their gifts: two beautiful swords with sheaths. And then she looked into Pippin's young and helpless eyes, and spoke. "Do not fear, young Peregrine Took. You will find your courage."

To Sam, she gave a coil of Elven-rope. "It is smooth upon the hand," said she. "And will last long." Sam blushed. "Thank you, my lady," he said softly. "Have…have you run all out of those nice shiny daggers?" The Lady merely laughed, smiling merrily. Then she turned to Adelaide.

"I cannot give you what you desire most," she said. "A passage home is not for me to decide to give. It is open to you in a place unseen and unknown to you as yet. But I give you the grace, at least, to go." About her neck, the Lady hung a beautiful gem of white and silver, shaped like a flower. "This is a jewel I have had wrought for you," she said. "And you will find that it has its own power before long. Remember Lothlorien sweetly, my little Lady. And now," she added, with a smile. "I give you something that no shield-maiden should therefore go without." And to Adelaide's delight and wonder, she brought forth a sword in a beautiful sheath carved with Elven skill and craft. Adelaide could have jumped up and down with joy, but she could only finger it with happy and delirious joy. It was made of the strongest metal, the Lady said, and was very deadly, being made by Elves. In the hilt was placed a white gem, and this, she said, was a sign of hope. Adelaide was so excited, she hardly heard what the Lady said next.

"I said, what are you going to name your new weapon?" said the Lady. "It must have a name."

"Nigel," Adelaide said promptly. (She later named it Nigel "Ass-Kicker" because, after all, didn't Gandalf once have a sword called "Glamdring the Foe-Hammer"?)

"Nigel?"

"Well, my computer's name is Fred. I don't want to make him jealous, y'know."

Galadriel smiled. "Think of me often," she said, and imprinted a kiss upon Adelaide's white forehead. "My thoughts are ever with you."

Next she turned to Frodo. Sweet was her gaze at the Ringbearer. "And for you, Ringbearer; for you I have prepared this." She held out to Frodo a beautiful glass vial, that shone with an inner light. "To you I give the light of Ereandil, our most beloved star. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out." Frodo took the glass, and then looked up at the Lady's face, sweet and gentle. He peeped over at Adelaide, who was looking away. He looked up into the Lady's face again. She smiled.

"_Namarie_," she said, the Elvish for "Farewell," and bent forward. She kissed the top of the hobbit's curly head gently, and Frodo felt at once all the delight and wonder of such a soothing touch. A mother could not have done any better. His heart ached to be off. To linger was only to feel more pain, as if it were a reminder of things yet to come.

As for Aragorn…

The Lady spoke to him in Elvish, but what she spoke to him about was quite a private matter. What Aragorn desired most was not in the Lady's power to give, and the Evenstar was all that Aragorn could possibly have as a gift. But she counseled him long on the matter that lay closest to his heart. And when she had finished, she kissed his forehead, and gave him a green gem set amid the silver trappings of a brooch. This she fastened to his cloak. Then Celeborn took Aragorn aside and counseled him long on the upcoming things that were to happen. He gave him too, an Elven dagger with a white blade, and gave him a blessing.

And then the Fellowship busied themselves among the boats, packing things up and exchanging last farewells with the group. Legolas had finally joined again, I should mention, and he seemed in definitely cheerier spirits. Adelaide was not at all sure what to do, but it was a good day, and who would take that away from her? So she merely smiled at him and tried to be a little kinder to him ("But not so he gets the wrong idea," she thought). She even helped him pack up his boat along with Merry and Pippin. Rummaging around in the luggage, she gave a little cry of surprise.

"What's this?" she asked, holding up what looked like a thin wafer of bread. It was diamond shaped, and rather flat, like a pancake. She sniffed it. "It doesn't smell bad, but what is it besides bread?"

"Not just any bread," said Legolas, coming up behind her. "Lembas! Elvish waybread. One bite, is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." He took a small nibble of the corner, and then offered some to Adelaide. She looked at it tactfully, and then bit off a small edge.

"Wow," she said. "That's wicked! Elves made that?"

"Pippin liked them a lot," said Merry, as Pippin just nodded at the Elf. Then he turned to him, a sick look on his face.

"How many did you have?" he asked. Pippin burped politely.

"Four," he answered. Merry chuckled, and just shook his head. Adelaide hooted with laughter.

"That's sick!" she said. "Now my stomach is all filled, right? Hot Dog! You know, if we had this for a diet, everyone would be…well….no wonder you Elves are so slim! Makes me miss my cheeseburgers, though," she said regretfully. "Give me a cheeseburger with lettus and dripping with ketchup and mayo any day with a large fry and coke. Now there's food for you," and so she went about her duties mumbling still. Legolas was fascinated. Was she going to be nicer to him today? It would be a miracle. Then he watched as Adelaide hopped out on the shore to bid good-bye to a few of the Elves. Haldir was there, and looked very stern, if nothing else.

"Come on," she teased him. "Quit role-playing. You can always admit to your friends later on. They won't kill you for it. In fact, I think you'll find that many of them will thank you for it. Anyhow—"

"Oh, maiden, I shall miss you!" he cried, and embraced her. Adelaide had to stand on her toes to really hug him good.

"There, there, don't start crying," she said. "I'll miss you too. It was great knowing you for as long as possible. And who knows? Maybe we'll meet again? You can never be sure about where the threads of our lives will take us."

"Isn't she wonderful?" asked Aragorn, coming up behind her. "She's been in Middle Earth too long; she's becoming a philosopher."

"I was quoting Confucious. Here, Haldir," she said, because the tears were coming on; she whipped out her handkerchief. "Have a hankie, and keep it. But don't let anyone else try to use it. The germs, you know." She gave the Elf a quick kiss on the bridge of his nose, and then turned away. She couldn't bear it. It was all so frightening, all so real. But anyway, today was a good day. Who was going to spoil it for her?

At last, when all the boats had been prepared, there came from over the water soft clear notes of another song, and to the wonder of all, they beheld Galadriel singing and playing a golden harp upon the bows of a great boat, with the prow in the shape of a swan's head. Very solemn she looked, and how sad! Adelaide could not translate the Elvish. But the song rose and fell in the clear morning air, and all who heard it were enchanted. Then Galadriel sailed to the shoreline and stepped out, and with her came a maiden and Celeborn. The maiden held in her hands a cup of white mead, and so presented it to the Lady with a little bow. In turn, the Lady gave it to Celeborn. "Drink Lord!" she said. "Here is the cup of Farewell. Many partings will be more bitter than this." And after Celeborn had drunk, she passed it around to each member of the Fellowship. And when Adelaide took a little sip, she nearly made a face. Ugh! It was so bitter! She wondered what parting could be more bitter than this.

After the cup had been drained, Galadriel waved her hands in a final farewell, and the Fellowship shot off from the shore in their boats. Aragorn, Adelaide and Frodo were in one boat, Gimli and Legolas were in another, and Boromir, along with the three hobbits, were in the other boat.

Frodo looked back upon the shore, and there was Galadriel, raising her hand. Her Ring, Nenya, flashed in the sunlight, giving her the look of an angel. Her hair shimmered in the golden rays of the dawning morning, and then she vanished over the river. Frodo turned forward and faced the long river. What was in store for them all? Was there to be no peace for them? And where was he to go, especially without his Adelaide? He felt tired. Aragorn allowed him to sleep.


	25. Woebegone Moods and Heartache

Chapter 26

Woebegone Moods and Heartache

When Frodo awoke, the Company was putting ashore on a rocky beach. He yawned, and was told that hours had gone by since he had shut his eyes. It seemed almost strange, to be putting ashore to some new place when they had just come from one of the most beautiful. It felt…well, as Adelaide would have said, it felt weird. But he rose, stretched himself, and helped Sam cook the dinner. Adelaide, using knowledge that no Alaskan should ever do without, was building a fire.

"There!" she stood up proudly when a decent blaze was going. She looked around for approval, and, finding that nobody really cared, she walked to the shoreline and began skipping stones. One of them hit the water and immediately there was a splash. Adelaide gaped.

"Aragorn!" she called. "_There is something in the water, and it isn't a fish_!"

"Ah," he said. "I wondered when you would catch on. Yes, that's Gollum. He's about. Indeed, I tried to catch him earlier, but he is slippery, and is very clever." He embraced her and then left her to watch the black shape swimming around. It seemed to be going after fish. Adelaide was curious. She had never seen Gollum before. It would be cool to get a good look at him.

She sat back down and ate along with the Fellowship. And when dusk had settled, she had the first watch. Carefully she watched and looked out for Gollum. He was easy to spot. His eyes gave him away, and she could hear little ripples lapping to shore. In the _Hobbit_, she had been told that Gollum never made a ripple. Well, he was losing his touch. She could hear his voice, sneaky and hissing-like. She wasn't a bit surprised. She wanted to hear his all-famous "precious" though. But she never did hear it. Aragorn relieved her a few hours later.

An hour later, she felt Mother Nature calling, and she grudgingly left the warm commodity of her blanket to seek out a very bushy structure far away from the male population. Upon coming back, however, she heard raised voices, and crept behind a rock to listen in.

It was Boromir and Aragorn. Both men knew about Gollum, and Aragorn had apparently told the other man about their destination, and Boromir was getting mad.

"And if he alerts the Enemy to our whereabouts, it will make crossing even more dangerous. Minas Tirith is a safer road. You know that! From there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," replied Aragorn calmly, but with obvious feeling in his heart.

"You were quick enough to trust the Elves!" sneered Boromir. "You have so little faith in your own people. There is frailty, weakness, but courage and honor in the men of Gondor."

Aragorn tried to walk away from this hopeless fight, but Boromir grabbed him and jerked him close. "You're afraid! All your life, living in the shadows! Scared of who you are, what you are!"

Aragorn seemed to struggle within himself. "I would not lead the ring within a hundred leagues of the city," returned Aragorn fiercely. Boromir finally left Aragorn alone, but the Ranger sat down. Adelaide came out and stood in front of him. He looked up with surprise.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"I had business with the shrubbery."

"I've never heard it called THAT before."

"Oh, quit fiddle-foddling. What the hell was that all about? Is he bothering you?"

He gave her a wry smile. "Why do you ask? Do you wish to take up a sword and defend me, O Valiant One?"

"Cut the sarcasm. I'm serious. What the hell is he getting all pissed for? Just because you would rather do the safer thing and avoid a dangerous path—"

"But Boromir is correct," Aragorn said gently. "He is right when he claims that I am frightened. Frightened, not of becoming king, necessarily, but of becoming something or someone that is not me. The position of King is not one that I desire above all others."

Adelaide stared at him. She couldn't remember if Tolkien had mentioned this state of mind or not. If he did, then this was totally in keeping with the character. If not, then this was truly a man, not just a character dictated by another's mind and pen. Tolkien had brought a world to life…not just figuratively, but very, very literally!

"But…but what do you want?" she stammered.

"Only to protect others," the Ranger replied. "That is why I was so far away in the North, as a Ranger, protecting the Shire and Bree. I enjoy that. No one need know. I do without favor."

"But, as king, wouldn't you be able to protect others? It's fitting with who you really are. You know who you really are, and it's a king. I'd say that to run from that and be just a Ranger is being someone and something else."

"Ah," Aragorn smiled. "Now you are talking. Tell me, Adelaide, who do you think that YOU are?"

"Uh…I'm not sure."

"Do you suppose that you are here in order to discover that?"

"Gandalf mentioned that in Rivendell."

"Are you anywhere closer to your goal?"

"I don't know."

"Well, perhaps it may take time. But when you do discover yourself and your vocation, I will be watching you struggle, and I will be here if you ever need to talk. Now go to bed and try to sleep. We'll need your help in the morning."

"Okay. 'Night, dad," Adelaide said. Not until she had walked ten feet did it hit her that Aragorn wasn't her biological father, and yet she'd just attributed to him a name that designated him as her male guardian. There! It had been done. Another piece of her heart had been given to someone. It should have ended there, but she knew that it wouldn't. There was more love to give, and how easy it seemed now!

As Adelaide returned to her bed, Boromir's hand came out and grasped her. Adelaide instinctively twisted, and the big man laughed.

"Fear not, I am no orc. But you seem to be restless, lady. Are you alright? Why are you unable to sleep?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. The strain, I guess. I kind of miss Gandalf."

"Would you like to talk with me? I know that there must be some way I can give you comfort."

Adelaide stared at him. The proposal was innocent enough, but she didn't like it anyway. Frodo's words came back to her. Obviously, tonight, the Ring was not on Boromir's mind. "No thanks," she returned. "I'm going to go see Frodo."

Boromir clutched her arm. "Maiden, why do you spurn my intentions? They are honorable. And surely you must be tired of talking with someone half your height. I see no reason why you cannot speak with a man for once."

Her eyes narrowed. "Boromir," she said quietly. "I speak to you guys all the time. I've barely had any time to spend with the hobbits that I know better than you or Aragorn, or any human here in Middle Earth. Now, let go of me right now, or I will tell Aragorn that you're starting to get a little too bold for your own good. I don't spurn your intentions, I'm throwing them back at your fucking face."

Boromir released her. "I see not why you refuse my trust, maiden. Do you not think that you treat the rest of us very harshly in comparison with that hobbit?"

Adelaide blinked, but she was already prepared. Boromir had been testing the relationship from day one, and now she shot back an answer.

"I don't intend to screw around with _all_ of you," she replied. She stared very hard at him. "Good-night, Boromir."

"As you wish it, my _lady_," he gritted his teeth and stalked off. She watched him go, displeasure in her eyes. That man was getting to be the biggest pain in the wazoo, and if he didn't watch himself, he'd be in a boat trying to bale himself out…in other words, he'd be sinking fast.

She came back to Frodo. She wanted to be with Frodo, because he was obviously upset with something. Adelaide thought she knew what it was. And she wanted to try and help her hobbit. But something inside of her told her that she could help by not being in the way. She was merely someone to tempt Frodo from fulfilling his duties. It was better to leave him alone. But it was so hard! Hard for her and obviously hard for Frodo. He had not spoken to her for some time, and she was frightened of something deeper. She had to see him. She could possibly give him comfort and encouragement.

She hid behind a rock as she heard Frodo talking to Sam. Sam was worried sick about his master too, and Adelaide didn't blame him. Poor Sam! It was hard for him, possibly harder than Adelaide knew, only because he did not understand. He lacked the intelligence to figure it out. Not to say he was stupid. But he was only a gardener, after all, and lacked proper training, to say the least. Other than that, he was a terrific pal.

"Mr. Frodo, you haven't been eating, and you barely sleep!"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"No you're not, Mr. Frodo! Please, let me try to help you! You have to eat something!"

"No Sam," Frodo was saying. "You can't help me. Not this time."

Not this time? Whatever was he talking about? Adelaide waited until Sam was away, and then she came over.

"Hey."

"Oh, hello, Adelaide." The voice was not his own; it was dull, tired, and very much upset. Adelaide sat down beside him.

"Hey, what's up?" She put on a playful smile and gave him a seductive nudge. But Frodo shook his head.

"Don't play with me like that, Adelaide. You know, as well as I do, that this can't continue."

Fear froze her heart. Oh God, what does he mean? "What are you talking about?"

"I mean…" Frodo sighed. "I don't know how to put this to you, Adelaide, but…I'm afraid. Afraid for us. I cannot…I cannot and will not take you to Mordor with me. You know how it must be, right?"

"You once told me never to tell you."

"Not the ending, at least. But I will go alone, won't I?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"Nor did Galadriel. But I feel that I must. That I have to." Frodo took a deep breath. "And that is why I suggest you forget me, Adelaide. I may die. I may…anything could happen…to the both of us…"

Adelaide's heart was about ready to pound out of her chest. No girl likes the prospect over a breakup, especially since it may be founded on fears that mean nothing. And at that moment, Adelaide was ready to tell Frodo that his fears WERE unfounded. Everything would be alright in the end. But she had promised never to tell the ending! So she swallowed.

"Does this mean…that you're…breaking up?" she whispered. Frodo bit his lip and nodded.

"I love you, Adelaide, and I want to be with you, but this road is a hard one, and I can't bear it with you in tow…this isn't your burden. I must protect you, don't you see?"

"That's a fine way to do it," she snapped bitterly. "I'd bear anything for your sake."

"I know you would…even death, if needed, but I can't do that to you, and I won't!"

Tears leaked into Adelaide's eyes, and she felt sick to her stomach. Frodo watched her, nervous, as her face turned a sickening shade of white, and then as she hunched over like a wounded soldier, tears falling into the rocky soil. She would not scream or cry out loud so as to wake the others. Frodo put his hand on her shoulder, but she straightened roughly.

"Oh, get off me! You may as well have never bothered to date me, if you thought the future was going to be so uncertain! You're always worried, Frodo, and it's not right. What if I told you that…that it's alright? I'll be fine! I promise! Look, we can still do this, Frodo. We can get through this together. I won't come with you; I'll…I'll stay behind, like a good girl, and I'll be a faithful lover until your return! We can still make this work—"

"Please, Adelaide, don't make it harder for me than it already is," Frodo begged, and Adelaide saw, at last, that he was not to be moved. He knew what he had to do. He was frightened. But if he screwed himself up to do it, he was going to do it alone. Once Frodo Baggins was on a mission, he wasn't won off easily. Adelaide knew him too well.

So for now, she cried relentlessly, not caring a bit if he saw. He was breaking her heart, and he deserved to feel as much pain as possible. But she could not even then dare to wish him ill-luck, or even a "I hope the Ring makes you miserable, you woolly-footed munchkin!" How could she? She still loved him, and he loved her. She calmed down after a bit and looked at him again.

"Frodo, if you should come out alright, would you still love me?" A cheesy question, yes, but one that needed answering. He smiled.

"Of course I would."

"But what if you tell me to forget you and I fall in love with someone else?"

Frodo frowned, remembering Galadriel's words. Would he be unfaithful to her? Really? But he had just told her to forget him. He shook his head, wanting to forget. He knew what was best, after all.

"Adelaide, let's have no more words about it, please. I know what I have to do, and you know what you have to do, so let's just hope and pray that we'll see each other again someday."

Frodo was quiet. "For if that isn't meant to be, or at least not yet, then something must be done. I've known it, and feared it, and hoped with all my heart it wouldn't happen, but now it must, for both our sakes."

"I know," Adelaide said quietly. "You must go to Mordor. And you must leave me here. I swore I would follow you, but that's not what I have to do."

"Then you know, too."

"I've always known that. Tolkien was always very specific. Remember? I know how the story will end. I know what you'll go through. I don't have your burden, but mine is not for you to bear. So I can't come with you."

"I would not bring you so close to Sauron and have you killed," Frodo said gently. "Galadriel instructed me."

"A wise gal, that Galadriel," Adelaide smiled ruefully. "All I can do is pray for you, because you're undergoing a rough time. You've got a decision to make. Tolkien said you would. But he wrote that you would take the passage of fulfillment, if that means anything to you. I'm just the cheerleader on the sidelines. So I'll pray for you."

Frodo looked into her eyes. "Adelaide...if it were my own choice, I would abandon this quest, toss this Thing, and take you back to the Shire with me. You know I would."

"I know it too. But the fact that you won't and that you can't gives me hope. I'm scared for you, Frodo. And I'm scared for us. But..." she bit her lip. She wanted to say so many things. This never happened in her time, in her world. This was new. It was testing her loyalty. It was testing her love of him. Time seemed to stand still. There was nothing between herself and the hobbit whom she loved so much. She felt so alone, and so lost. Fear mingled with hate of the Enemy, who was causing this. But she would be brave. She would be strong. And she wouldn't be selfish. She nodded again.

"Alright. But…but please be gentle," she faltered. "I'm not sure how to take this."

In her heart, she was not content. She was screaming rebellion at a stupid little hobbit who just didn't know the truth of the matter. But she had sworn so many different things that now she was in a vise that wasn't going to let her loose. She needed a good cry. And so, standing, she left the hobbit and went on her own walk back to her bed, where she spent the rest of the evening quietly sobbing her eyes out, as most girls are wont to do over the unfairness of the world.

Only a promise. A promise made in full knowledge and love. It was her gift to him; her gift to the one she loved. She felt that she couldn't give anything more.

Frodo watched her leave and then curled up in a ball. Tears and sobs racked his body, causing his stomach to ache. But he would not cry out to her. And yet it was so painful! Time spent with him was precious to her. But he had to do this alone, and the pain was going to be utterly intolerable. Better to not think of her, and concentrate on the task ahead. A promise is a promise, after all. And he would not let it go in vain.

The next morning, everyone noticed that Adelaide was more morose than usual, but nobody commented on it out loud. Adelaide was an off-and-on person, so it really didn't matter what happened. Boromir, however, took a great liberty to invite Adelaide into his boat, and seemed to play the nice role of the filial parent. He talked of Gondor _again_ and how beautiful it was, and how Adelaide would just absolutely _adore_ it there.

"And we shall give you gowns of gold and silver," he added, quite forgetting that Adelaide didn't do the gown thing. "You shall have jewels to suit you, and how gloriously beautiful you shall look, upon the white terrace upon the tallest tower!"

"Um."

"Kings and princes would vie for your hand, but we in Gondor shall say, 'Never! This is our lady, our jewel and crown of Gondor, and none shall take her from us!' My father shall be your father, and my brother shall be your brother. You shall be the happiest of maidens, I promise you."

"Sure."

"And you shall have maid servants, of course," continued Boromir. "They shall dress you and bathe you and do everything for you as you please."

"What for? I can do all of that by myself, you know."

"What? Nonsense. Proper maidens of high ranking never do things alone. They are always attended by someone who shall help them properly!"

"Dude, the last thing I need is a gal who knows my intimates."

"Your what?"

"My bra size. I'm perfectly capable of dressing, bathing, and walking myself. If I need any help across the street, thanks, I'll ask. What about riding horses and stuff?"

"Oh, those things would not interest you. Battle and War…those are the politics of Gondor. It would not interest you. We men live very droll lives. In fact, we envy you women, who have been given such beautiful talents. But alas, we are men, and war is our province."

_Oh, like you're really sad about that._

Adelaide shrugged. "I could use the distraction of battle right now," she said low enough so that no one heard her. "Guys and gals were wired differently, Boromir. But I'd have to say that I'd never want to give up playing games or riding, or things like that. They make up who I am. There's no reason why you should envy us."

"Yes, indeed, your talents are to be envied," Boromir insisted. "Women, in my opinion, can have more fun than men."

"Hum. That's a first," said Adelaide. "I've never heard of a woman having more fun than a man, at least here in Middle Earth. I repeat, nobody feminine around here has any fun. You grow up learning all sorts of boring duties, you have to wait on the elderly all your life, and you get betrothed to a guy who probably doesn't care jack-shit about you. No thanks. I'll stick with bein' an American Woman."

Boromir went on and on about it all. He nearly wearied Adelaide's head. By the time they reached ground again, Adelaide was in a very bad mood, and it didn't help that it was her turn to cook.

"Adelaide!" called Aragorn. "Catch us some fish, will you?"

"Oh, go rot in hell," she responded angrily. "Fuck the fish! Seafood makes me vomit anyway. Go catch your own!"

"Well!" said Aragorn, as Adelaide marched away from him. "I wonder what made her so angry! Frodo, will you please go and try to talk with her?"

The little hobbit suddenly straightened up violently. "Not now," he said. "At…at times like these, it's best if I leave her alone. Just leave her be for a while, and she'll return as cheerful as ever…"

But the hobbit's voice was not very steady, and this was taken into account by nearly everyone.

That evening, when everyone slept, Adelaide too tucked herself in (away from Frodo) and had a nice long slumber. But something was wrong. She had gone to sleep…at least, she thought she had gone to sleep, but there she was, in the middle of the forest, in the afternoon of a day, and she could feel everything.

She pinched herself and slapped herself. She couldn't understand it. She could feel, hear, and talk. But everything around her was as real as day! Hadn't she gone to sleep? What was the deal? And now she was dressed in her usual garb, and standing underneath the tall trees. But this wasn't Lothlorien. Where was she?

Then she heard the thunder. Even though it was sunny and bright out, thunder filled the air. Birds scattered. Trees and brush rustled. And Adelaide saw something that terrified her out of her skin.

A thousand creatures stampeded straight at her. They were large, larger than a man or an Elf. But they weren't trolls. Nor were they orcs. They were hideously black, and they wore armor. But their helmets were covered with what looked like a white hand. They came on, thundering through the brush, taking little or no heed about how and where they stepped. Ripping up living things seemed to be their delight. It was horrible! What were these things?

Adelaide saw also that they bore terrible weapons, and that they were headed straight for her. She gave a shriek and started to run. But the creatures were much faster than she was, being strong of muscle and leg joints; they were almost tireless! They soon caught up with her. Adelaide stood still in helplessness and covered her eyes, expecting the End. But instead, a strange and curious thing happened, that would later have a lot of significance to this story. They passed right through her. It was as she was only a ghost. And they ripped on through the foliage, taking absolutely no heed to her. Adelaide opened her eyes. She looked around. And she saw that the creatures had passed.

Shaking like a leaf, she sat down on the ground, blinked, and poof, zingbalabing, she was in her bed again, sitting up and sweating profusely. All the others were asleep. Had they not heard her shriek? Had she really been so quiet? But the nightmare had frightened her. What had happened? It didn't seem like a dream, because it was so real. But often times, strange things happen when you're sleeping. Adelaide stayed awake, and did not go back to sleep.

In the morning, she accosted Aragorn about it. He looked at her, and then felt her forehead, as if trying to see whether or not she was going crazy. Then he sighed.

"I was afraid of this," he said. "Gandalf told me that it was likely to happen sometime soon. And yet it may prove beneficial. Adelaide, what you experienced, was a _derith ni`amorni_."

"That's just great," said Adelaide. "What the hell is it?"

"A very rare case of being in two places at the same time. While your body was here, at camp, your spirit was off somewhere along the eastern shore." He pointed. "It may only be experienced while sleeping. It is something that may be mastered over time, but no one has ever survived the splitting of self into two halves while fully awake. Gandalf said that it was likely to happen to you of all people, because it is a symptom that he has often experienced, and is also a result of your little mind powers. Take care! With this knowledge, there is real use of the dreams, and you must be careful, or else you will find yourself someplace where you might not want to be. But this is excellent. Now that you know, I think that I should like a detailed explanation of what you saw."

"I don't know what they were," said Adelaide. "They looked like orcs, but they were really tall, and walked or ran straight, like a man. But they were really dirty, and bore a white hand on their helmets. They had dread-locks, I think, and they also ran like the devil was after them. I've never seen anything like it."

"And you don't know what they were?"

"I haven't a clue. They seemed to be somewhat smarter than orcs, in a way."

"Why so?"

"Because of their manner. There wasn't any pushing or shoving or anything typical with orcs. And they didn't yell either. These guys were as organized as football yuks."

For a moment, Aragorn considered her thoughts. "The Eastern shore is being watched by Sauruman," he said finally. "Sauruman's sign is the white hand. I think what you saw, Adelaide, were Uruk-hai."

"What in the name of Pete is an Uruk-hai?"

"Goblin breed," snorted Gimli. "And they are smart, Addy, like you said. Patrolling the Eastern Shore, are they? Ar, we'll have a fight yet, I hope!"

"I don't hope," snapped Adelaide. "I don't want to fight those guys if I can help it. If we have to, well, then, we do, but I really, really don't think that's a good idea."

"Feeling better?" asked Aragorn.

"No."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No. Now go away and leave me alone."

They continued down the River that day, and all were silent. The sun was warm on their backs. The current was growing slightly. And the day really did seem to be turning out to be quite fun. Adelaide had decided, for the heck of it, to sail with Legolas this time. You can imagine the delicious ecstasy the Elf felt when she sat down in front of him to paddle. But the Elf did not try to talk to Adelaide. He gave her room. He gave her space. And he was willing to give her time. Adelaide, to him, needed to be tamed only by love and patience. He loved her to distraction; he adored her; he worshipped the ground she walked on. And here she was, in his boat, by her own choice! Yet a single word could ruin things for him; he kept very silent.

At least the hobbit was out of the way. It had angered him for many nights to see how the hobbit kept her close to him and let no one else come within five feet of her, unless it were someone he trusted fully. Legolas could imagine the warmth of her breast and the beating of her heart. But now the hobbit didn't seem to pay much attention to her. And she did not seem to even notice him. It was curious to the Elf. It did not make sense to him. But now that he was not being turned a cold shoulder, the Elf was determined to keep it that way. _I shall have her in my bed yet_, he thought to himself, and with ease, let his mind slip off and run amid the fields of an open meadow.

Adelaide for her part, was trying to be nicer to the Elf. She didn't think it had been right of her to snap at him in Lothlorien. After all, she had forgiven the Elves. But that was really not so. The problem was that Adelaide felt a definite tug by the Elf, who really hadn't done much pulling. Frodo had done all the pulling, and now her strings were loose, and she felt a definite tug by the Elf. The feeling almost frightened her. It was strange. Very strange.

Frodo, in the other boat, was having a hard time getting rid of Adelaide. She was keeping her part of the bargain, but he struggled to do so. He had worried about moving off like that and leaving her as fresh meat for another carnivore who would have eaten her up earlier. Now it seemed as if he had been right. He tried to push her out of his mind, and another image, his girlfriend with another man, or even an Elf, boiled in his brain. He was a very jealous little hobbit, I am sorry to say, although Legolas really had no right to poach upon his preserves. After all, it wasn't as if the Elf hadn't known there was a thing between human and hobbit! And it wasn't as if he'd known about the breakup, either!

Suddenly, Aragorn looked up, and his voice cut through all thoughts. "Behold! The Argonath!" he said. "Long have I desired to look upon my ancestors!"

Adelaide looked up and beheld two great statues, carved in robes of nobility, and wearing helmets. Their arms were outstretched, while in the others, they held great stone swords. Fair their faces seemed, as though no mold or moss had covered them of late or past. Adelaide was reminded greatly of the statue she had seen in India of the great Buuhda. These statues were enormous, and gave one the sense of security and protection. It was almost as if they were guarding the lands and the Anduin, from any harm that could befall it. How noble, and how beautiful they seemed! The breath was caught, and you thought that you could stare endlessly at their features. Grave and solemn, yet how much more joyous and proud! Adelaide felt that she could look upon them forever. But then she turned her paddle in the water again, and looked over the side.

Hm. A waterfall with the possibilities of a steep drop and sharp rocks at the bottom was not her idea of a romantic death.

Aragorn gave orders to quickly put in at the next shore. And so they did. After unloading, they stretched a bit, and yawned. Lembas was handed out for a snack, before dinner could be made. Adelaide did a bit of yoga. And Frodo wandered off.

"What's our next path?" asked Merry, eating some lembas.

"We leave the boats and travel on foot," said Aragorn, and went on to describe their next path. "We go to Mordor from the North." Suddenly, he was stopped by Gimli.

"Oh yes? Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impossible labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! An oozing, stinking, festering marsh, as far as the eye can see."

"That sounds so cheerful," Adelaide said sarcastically.

"That, master dwarf, is our path," said Aragorn. "I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength."

Gimli let out a puff of air in a choke. "Recover my…! Grrrrr!" He grumbled. Adelaide laughed.

Then Legolas came over to Aragorn, speaking to him in a low voice.

"We should leave here."

"No. Not until they've rested. We will not touch the Eastern Shore."

"It is not the Eastern Shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. I can feel it."

"No dwarf need recover his strength," Gimli grumbled to Pippin. "Pay no attention to that, young hobbit."

"Where's Frodo?" asked Merry, suddenly and without warning.

"He went for a walk," Adelaide said.

"It is dangerous for him to be alone," Aragorn said quickly. "Why did you not go with him?"

"He looked like he needed some lone-time."

"For the love of Illuvatar, lady; this is no time for lone-time! You should have gone with him!"

"Has anyone seen Boromir?" Gimli growled. Adelaide perked up immediately. Aragorn swiveled his head and saw Boromir's shield lying on a log. Its master was missing.

Aragorn caught Adelaide as she thrust forward angrily. "Maiden, we cannot just ramble off!"

"I'm gonna kill that sonofabitch if he so much as touches that hobbit!"

"Take Gimli with you, then! I will go with Merry; Legolas, you bring Pippin with you! This must be an organized search party…and nobody—I said _nobody_—do anything until I get there!"


	26. Just the Beginning

Chapter 27

Just the Beginning

**Okay, fans! The chapter you've all been waiting for! (I've always wanted to say that, an it won't be the last time, either…) The next story is published separately, and will be called "The Tale of Adelaide II." There will be tons of Rohan goodness, Adelaide/Eowyn girl-power, a LOT of bad language and beer, and so many graphic love scenes your computer will fry up. Reviews are ALWAYS welcome!**

Off a bit, Frodo awoke from his nap upon the large stone face of an ancient ruin. He had been trying to sleep on the subject of going off by himself to Mordor. Mind you, he didn't relish the thought. He would have rather been at Bag End, with a nice cup of tea. But all of that seemed so far away, further than he could have known it to be. And there was a job that needed to be done. A very tedious job. And no one, not even she, could help him. He didn't like it. But he knew what he had to do.

He decided first to return to camp and explain matters to everyone. Doubtless they weren't going to be very happy, but he had to do it, and they weren't going to hinder him by saying he couldn't. Aragorn would understand.

But as he was leaving his little nest, a tall figure stepped in front of him. It was the man, Boromir, gathering wood. At least he pretended to be gathering wood. His smile was fake. At least it seemed to be fake.

"No one should stray out here alone," he said. "Least of all you. So much depends on you."

Frodo didn't answer the man. What was he supposed to say? He was fifty, older than Boromir, and not a child any more. Of course, he needed protection, but he was not a baby to be scolded like that, and least of all by Boromir.

"Frodo?" the man seemed somewhat sincere. "I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. Are you sure that you suffer needlessly? There are other paths, other ways we might take, my friend."

_My friend_. He had said my friend. Was Boromir his friend? Frodo didn't know. So many times had he come into conflict with him; so many times had he come into conflict with the whole journey. It seemed strange now, to be called a friend by this man.

"I would go but for the warning in my heart," said Frodo. The man advanced.

"What warning? Against what? We are all afraid, but to let that fear destroy what hope we have left is madness!"

"There is no other way this may be done."

"There are other ways, you foolish little one. Why do you not choose to see them? Or perhaps you do not want to see them." Boromir continued to stack wood. "Perhaps you wish to follow Gandalf's advice. And it is just advice. The wizard, Lord Elrond, and all those who speak of destroying the Ring…they have only advice to offer you. But I! I can offer you a true way out of this."

"There is no way out of it," Frodo retaliated. "I mustn't back down now. I know you wish to help me, Boromir. But there is only one way, and no other."

"I think," Boromir edged in slyly. "That you are concerned that this is the only way because Gandalf told you it was the only way to save Adelaide. Is that true?"

Frodo looked up quickly; he had not thought of that before, but why was Boromir bringing that up?

"Gandalf said nothing of the kind," he replied, a little testily. "I think it was made quite clear at the council that unless the Ring is destroyed, Adelaide may stay here forever."

"Is that not what you want? It is what many want."

"I want whatever makes Adelaide happy," Frodo said, beginning to feel defensive. "If she wants to go home, I will not bar her way. Besides, there is more than that. She is not meant to be here. She is from another world, another time. She isn't meant to stay here forever. It's not her place."

"So you are worried for her safety after all," Boromir smiled. "Never fear, _Halfling_, the _human_ lady can take care of herself."

Frodo trembled, feeling the deliberate slap of the man's words. So it all boiled down to racism, did it? Boromir had struck a chord, and he knew it.

"Why should you fear for the maid, Frodo?" he chuckled. "After all, consider the differences between the two of you. She is tall and strong, as bright as a sunny day in springtime, always laughing and playing. You are short and weak, moody and depressed, and I have yet to see you smile. You are half her size, and are not even a tenth of what she is."

Frodo wasn't quite sure how to respond. Everything Boromir said was true, and the hobbit listened miserably as the man continued.

"Now, were she to come to Gondor, I must admit, she would be beloved. My father has spoke ill of her, but it was he who commanded me to go to Rivendell for council, and it was he who also mentioned that she would be there. I was not expecting such a dazzling beauty. Would she not make a marvelous princess?"

"She wouldn't like it," said Frodo, shaking. "She's not a bird to be caged up and ordered to sing when commanded. She is not what you believe her to be. She's American," he added, for he understood, more than the others, what Adelaide's kind of world meant to her and how it affected her. But Boromir turned a deaf ear to this.

"Then what is she, halfling?" Boromir's eyes burned into him. "If you know all about her, might you not tell me what it is that burns within her so badly? What bothers her, Frodo? Why is she not to be caged up? Why wouldn't she like it? Is it, perhaps, this power that she bears? You know, Frodo, that if a powerful man holds the Ring, he may be able to do anything. Anything! Think of it! It is power, my friend, can you not see that? What could she do if she held it in Gondor? What could she not do! And standing by our side, she would make a valuable ally. Her power is in her mind…think what an advantage she will have over Sauron!"

"How dare you!" Frodo's voice bubbled up from the thoughts in his heart and came out of his mouth in a shrill, furious shriek of anger. "How dare you insinuate that my lass would ever do such a thing as that…if she were ever to touch the Ring, Sauron would see her, he'd capture her, he'd know…he would kill her, and kill us all!"

Boromir's eyes glinted. "I think you do not understand fully, halfling. Even if she were not the weapon we seek, there would be a pleasure in having her as the crown jewel of my city. She is lovely, is she not? Why are you so hesitant to speak on the matter? Any man would relish a conversation over such a woman."

At this, Frodo's eyes were opened and he saw just how much love this man bore for his Adelaide. It wasn't a man's lust for sexual favors, although that would probably have been the cherry on the ice-cream Sundae. He was greedy for her power, greedy for the wealth she might bring, greedy for her as a woman. It was the dream of a warrior, not the dream of a lover. Nevertheless, for her to even be in this man's clutches…how could he dare wish such a fate on one he admired! Tears of hate and rage boiled up inside the hobbit, but by a masterful suck of air he was able to control himself. He must not let his anger show.

The man, however, had struck deeper than he had dreamed.

"Yes," he sneered. "You think you should be the only one to command her and talk to her and have her obediently respond to you like the lamb she is! I have seen it, halfling. A girl, a young woman, nearly twice your height, with a beauty that even the Elves found pleasurable, and a mind so powerful, so wonderful, that even Gandalf cannot control it...what has she to do with you? For that matter, why should the Elves have seen her first? And why was she taken to Rohan, a mean place of little repute? Their women are shield-maidens; their men are old, and the king there is failing in his duties. Gondor is at the height of its glory; my father rules it well, and it is a prime place for battle and attack. She would do well to come there! Why did she not come there? Why was she fated to spend seventeen wasted years in the Shire! It was folly on behalf of the one who sent her hither. And now she is in a pickle, to be sure! This woman, bound to the Ringbearer! But we do know that her fate is entangled with the Ring, do we not?" he asked slyly. "Bring this thing to Gondor. That way you shall be able to save her, if you love her so much."

"I am going to save her," said Frodo. "But I will not bring it to Gondor. Never! I shall save her by destroying it. That is the only way."

"You speak as the others do, foolish puppet," said Boromir, laughing. "If you would but only lend me the Ring…"

"No," said Frodo, recoiling.

"Why do you recoil? I am no thief."

"You are not yourself," Frodo said, quaking with anger.

"What chance do you think you have?" asked Boromir, turning red with rage, his features twisting. "They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the End! Fool! It is not your save by unhappy chance when it could be mine…it should be mine! Give it to me!

Frodo had started to back away, but now he saw that the rage in the man's eyes was overpowering, and he was getting attacked. The man was coming at him with hate and blood in his eyes, and Frodo started to run. His mind cried Adelaide's name, but he made no noise. No, not even then would he try and scream out. Then he felt himself hit in the back, and the man rolled over with him, clawing desperately at the Ring.

"Give it to me!" he cried.

"No!" cried Frodo. This must not be! He had to escape. Frightened, the tiny hobbit slipped the Ring upon his finger, and disappeared from the man's sight. Boromir stopped grasping. There was nothing to grasp, suddenly! And then a violent pain shot up through him as he felt himself getting kicked. Leaves fluttered past, and Frodo was far away. Boromir gritted his teeth.

"Where are you? You cursed little brat! I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all! Miserable trickster! Curse you! Curse you and all halflings to death!"

Suddenly he slipped and fell, hitting his head. And suddenly, all his rantings and ravings were revealed to him, and he gasped.

"What have I done? What have I said? Frodo! Frodo! Come back! A madness took me, but it is over! Frodo!"

At that moment, he looked up and saw a very slim boot right in front of his nose. For a moment, he thought that Legolas had found him. But the voice was not Legolas' at all. It was more on the feminine side.

Adelaide stood looking down at him, feeling very awkward for having overheard so much, but proud of Frodo all the way for defending her. Her heart stood by him, more loyal than ever. But this man, this poor, proud, silly man…! He couldn't look at her. She was furious. The man had done her a violent act with his thoughts, and now she was going to get even.

"You'd better lie very still until Aragorn gets here, or Gondor won't be seeing the return of its noble captain in the near future," she said menacingly. "I wonder how dear old dad would take that. Probably wouldn't improve his vision of me, but what the hell do I care?"

"Adelaide," he tried to look innocent. "Frodo put the Ring on! I tried to stop him—"

"That," said the girl. "Is the biggest load of BS I have ever heard."

He winced, and then saw that she had drawn her knife, keeping it level with his face.

"Okay, we're going to have a little talk. A little prime-time."

"Maiden, please, I beg of you, have mercy!" said the man. "Do not harm me! A great madness took me, I tell you! I did not mean to do what I did!"

"How dumb do you think I am, Boromir? You must think all the marbles rolled out of my ears. You know, and I know, that you came conveniently hunting firewood in the same place that Frodo decided to meditate, and what do you know? Instant fireworks!"

"But I am sorry, my lady! Truly, I am! I merely want to do what is right; I did not wish for evil to overcome me—"

"I know you didn't. Nobody does." Adelaide sheathed her gun and sat down beside Boromir. To the man's surprise, she reached out and gently touched his cheek. "I know you must love me," she said quietly. "But what you just told Frodo, in there, isn't love. It's utility. And I can't be used like that. No girl likes to be used that way. You did Frodo an evil by insulting me, and you did me an even greater one for doing it behind my back! But you have to realize, Boromir, that I love Frodo on my own accord. Love can't be ruled. You think everything can be ruled—me, love, the Ring, fate…life isn't like that."

Adelaide shook her head in pity. "You think it's folly to go into Mordor and destroy the Ring when you've got to see that it's caused nothing but trouble! I told you that in Rivendell, you fruitcake! But that's not the point. I can forgive you the bout of madness because I would have done the same thing. But you attacked Frodo," she added, gritting her teeth. "Nobody—_nobody_—hurts any of my hobbits and gets away with it. Especially if it's Frodo. I love him very, very much. And of course he's short, and yeah, he's weak, and he'll probably never be drop-dead-gorgeous like me, but who cares? I'm not looking for a soldier. I never was. I don't choose who I fall in love with. I flipped for a hobbit, and isn't that retarded? But it's what happened. No, I don't understand it. But I love him. I'd die for him. I don't care about going to Gondor. I don't care about it at all. All that matters to me is to see Frodo safely to his destination, there and back again, in one fucking piece!"

Then she ran off to find her loved one, leaving the man in the dust and leaves, and weeping, for himself and for the girl that had held so much hope for him and the world he and his people lived in.

Frodo found himself in the shadowy world of the wraiths again. For the third time, he was in a swirling world of blackened hate and power, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. Terrible things assailed him. He climbed one of the ruins to find peace, and yet, huddled there, found nothing but terror. He peeped over the ledge, and gasped. There was Minas Morgul, the terrible tower of Sauron, and at the top, burning with fire, was the great Eye. And it saw him. And it laughed. Frodo shivered in terror, and felt pain like a thousand knives. He cried out, and lost his footing. But even as he fell, he took off the Ring. And once more, the day appeared in all of its blue sweetness, and he was lying in the grass.

"Frodo?" said a voice, and he leaped up to defend himself. It was Aragorn.

"It has taken Boromir, he said.

"Where is the Ring, Frodo?"

"Don't touch me! Stay away!"

"I swore to protect you!"

Frodo faced the man, and his thoughts ran and whirled in his head. He faced Aragorn with all the strength in his little body. Boromir called him small. He called him no good for her? Well, he'd show him. He'd show them all!

"Can you protect me from yourself?" he asked. One hand uncurled, revealing the Ring in all of its terrible, innocent glory. "Or would you destroy it?"

Aragorn heard the Ring whispering his name. He felt the tug, the temptation. But he also felt the pain and the anguish of the hobbit. He was too clever to be tricked by merely a voice and a stupid golden Ring! Gently he kneeled before the hobbit and took his hand. He closed it over the Ring.

"I would have followed you," he said. "Even into the fires of Mordor."

Frodo looked into the man's eyes and saw there only love and protection. "I know," he said. "Explain to the others. Especially Sam. He will not understand."

"And Adelaide?"

"She knows." Oh, it was hard. Hard for him to say it. Hard for him to know it. Hard for him to accept it. Hard for him to feel the pain it gave him. Aragorn knew this, and more.

"I will take care of her, Frodo. You have my word," he said.

"Thank you," whispered Frodo. "I…I love her. Tell her that." Oh how he wanted to say those words right out to her! Straight out, without any nonsense, from the moment he'd met her, from the moment they'd first touched hands in a greeting...and something more, something else.

"I shall." Aragorn rose. His eyes bore a look of sudden hatred. Frodo stared at him, and then unsheathed Sting. It was blue. Orcs! Or perhaps worse! Aragorn drew his sword. "Run," was the command he gave Frodo. And how that hobbit did run! He swept away from those ruins, to go flee and hide, and to run away to other lands.

Meanwhile, Aragorn turned, and faced down a crowd of Uruk-hai, just looking for trouble.

Adelaide ran her butt off until she felt that she could not longer run, and then met up with Legolas, the hobbits, and Gimli. Adelaide had left Gimli in a bind, and apparently Aragorn had left Merry in a bind, so everyone was sort of scattered to the four winds. They too had been searching, and when she told them what she knew, Gimli snorted.

"There's no use in denying it," he said. "Terrible, lass, just terrible. But you know—"

"Hush, Gimli!" said the Elf, suddenly sniffing the air. "I can feel it, I can smell it; something is wrong. There are enemies about!"

"Argh!" cried Gimli. "Here we go! I told you we'd have a fight yet, lass!"

_Argh, indeed_, thought Adelaide miserably. _Happy-happy joy-joy. _But Frodo could be out in it! Pushing everything else to the side, including the dwarf and Elf, she barreled through the forests, to where she knew that the sounds and smells were strongest. As she rounded a corner, she ran smack into an Uruk who was not having a very good day. He slashed at her with his weapon, and Adelaide ducked, just in time. When she bobbed up next, she had drawn her sword. With a strength she hardly knew as her own, she plunged it into the creature's chest and let out a frightened scream. The Uruk gave a dying gurgle and sank to his knees. Adelaide wrenched the blade free and promptly threw up. She'd never killed anyone or anything before.

She sailed into the fight right with Aragorn, who was seemingly having a hell of a time trying to fight off about a hundred Uruks all by his lonely little self. She instantly plunged into the fight, not knowing how she managed to do it. The sword was light and easy in her hand, and though she had had only a bit of training with Eowyn, she was surprised to see that her training was recalled all in an instant, or else the sword enabled her to fight well on its own accord. Otherwise, she supposed, she would have never been able to fight. The feel of the sword also gave her a strange courage she had never felt before.

"Two!" Gimli shouted across at Legolas.

"I have four," said Legolas. He impaled another Uruk with his arrow and shot at another. "Six!"

"Show-off," grumbled Gimli, and hacked at one standing behind Adelaide, ready to hack her in two. "Three."

Aragorn and Legolas were killing many in that area, but suddenly an order was issued in gurgling tones, "Find the halflings! Find them! Grab the girl!"

"Yow!" Adelaide screeched again, and started to weave away from the battle. But at least thirty orcs ganged up on her.

"Well, hello, little maid!"

"How pleasant that you join our little party!"

"I think you'll be sweet enough for dessert!"

"Argh!" cried Adelaide. She promptly ran in the other direction.

Meanwhile, Frodo was trying to escape. He had hidden behind a great tree, as some of the monsters had moved past, but now he heard voices.

"Frodo! Psst! Frodo! Over here!"

He looked, and saw Merry and Pippin hiding in a little cove, which they had discovered themselves. They were beckoning to him frantically. Frodo looked at them, tempted, for a moment, to hide and escape the Uruks. But his conscience was urging him the other way. There was another way. He had to go his way, the way that he was meant to go. He shook his head.

"What's he doing?" asked Pippin. Merry understood better than he.

"He's leaving," he said with alarm.

Quick, a distraction was needed! This time, there was no sack of mushrooms to throw. But there was the hobbits themselves. Merry and Pippin jumped out to provoke a bunch of creatures heading towards their friend.

"Hey! Hey you! Over here!"

"This way!"

"Come on!"

The hobbits started running at a very fast pace. Over logs, through the forest, they were dragging those hated monsters away from Frodo, so he could escape…leave…and perhaps go to Mordor to save them all…

"It's working!" cried Pippin.

"I know it's working! Keep running!"

But there were too many of them. The Uruk-hai surrounded them from the front and from the back, and then the hobbits found themselves literally trapped. And Frodo ran on, tears streaking down his cheeks. They had done this for him, and he would make the best of what they had to give.

But Pippin and Merry were expecting to die. They weren't expecting Boromir to suddenly come over the knoll, sword in hand, with rage in his eyes. He had been like a father to them; they knew nothing of his treachery. And yet they felt a pride for him, and a love, and a hope. The Uruks saw nothing until Boromir had hacked at least three down, yelling like crazy. Then the others yelled, and began their attack.

Meanwhile, another situation had inevitably come up. Adelaide had been running when all of a sudden she was accosted by another ugly brute. He didn't look happy.

"I'll get you, if it's the last thing I do! Sauruman wants you now, but I wonder what he'd do; merely take you for himself is my idea! No, I'd eat you if I had a mind!"

"Shut up and go follow someone else!' cried Adelaide in a panic.

"Oh-ho! Do you think I take orders from you, little wench? No, you're for the white hand, if I have anything to say about it."

Adelaide swung her sword, but the creature fended off her blow and grabbed her by the hair. That was a weak spot! Adelaide wailed in pain and dropped her sword, both hands flying to her head instantly. The Uruk lunged, hoisting her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying her off. Adelaide screamed and kicked, but the Uruk merely held her all the more tightly, and pinched her when she hit home. But then something struck him in the face, and he fell down dead. Adelaide tried to pick herself up, but that was reserved for another Uruk.

"Did that filthy Glugot try to hurt you, poppet?" asked another Uruk, definably more ugly. "Don't worry, my pet, you're with Glishnak now, and he won't let anyone touch you!"

"Oh go away!" Adelaide did something that should not be done, especially to feisty Uruks. She kicked him where it hurt. As the Uruk howled and dropped to his knees, Adelaide fell to the ground, narrowly missing his knife as he slammed it down. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed through the air, and struck the Uruk in the face. He fell with a cry. Another Uruk, who had been approaching, stopped in terror. Adelaide looked up. The fair Elf of Mirkwood was once again defending her, and as he stood over her body; his whole being was taut, and ready to kill. The Uruk shrieked, but it could not escape the bow and arrow of Lothlorien, and Adelaide found herself suddenly being helped to her feet. Legolas' slim hands moved over her body, checking for cuts, and then he noticed her leg.

"Filthy beasts! Adelaide, can you walk?" Legolas pressed Adelaide close to his body for support and protection.

"It's just a scratch," Adelaide murmured, dazed and embarrassed. "I can walk."

"Here, let me bind it. You are right; you have had a close call."

"Legolas, I'm fine."

Recognition of his name from the mouth of the girl caused the Elf to look up into her face. She was not smiling, but her eyes were soft, and her body was willing against his. Ooh-hoo, but things were starting to get a little hot. Unfortunately, there was present business.

He smiled at her. "I am thankful," he said, and hurried away, before things got hotter than they really were.

Suddenly, there was a blast from a horn. Adelaide stood stock still. Legolas turned. "The horn of Gondor!" he cried, racing off in the direction that it had been sounded. He forgot all about Adelaide. Somewhere else, Aragorn heard the horn too. "Boromir!" he thought to himself. "Boromir is in need!" That rascally man was somewhat of an oddity, but they could not deny him help. Suppose he had come upon something more intimidating, like—

"The hobbits!" he roared. "They're after the hobbits! Get to Boromir!"

He slashed at another Uruk and then ran down the way in which the horn was being sounded.

Boromir was blowing with all his mighty breath. He had earlier been sulking and condemning himself for being a fool, but when an Uruk had suddenly stepped up behind him he forgot his fear and his anger at himself and slashed at it. Where there was one, there was more, and so he came running into a whole slew of them. He had killed off many, before he had heard Merry and Pippin's cries for help. And he had come, running to their rescue, for they were good lads, like children to him. And the look in their eyes, of gratitude, was worth more than Gondor itself.

He was furiously hacking at more Uruks when suddenly a huge arrow struck him in the shoulder. He gasped in pain, as red-fire shot through his body. Poisoned? But no; it was the largest arrow he had ever seen, fired by a crossbow. A huge Uruk stood there, a malicious grin upon his ugly face, crossbow in hand. He was loading another arrow, thick as half a man's arm and sharp as an arrow could be. He aimed with deadly skill. Boromir gritted his teeth and lashed out again at another Uruk. Again, he was shot. The pain was more than he could bear. But the devils had not pierced his heart, nor his spirit. Again, he rose to fight off more devils.

Merry and Pippin stood by in fear. They looked with horror upon their comrade, and then started to scream. They clutched at each other for protection, and even picked up rocks to throw, and try to help Boromir, who had been like a father to them.

The large Uruk stringed another arrow and let it fly. Two more arrows he shot like this in the same way, and still the man, the great warrior from Gondor, would not die. More of the fiends were killed. The sixth arrow that was fired, however, brought Boromir down on his knees. He gasped in the pain. All the sweat and blood mingled with his fear of dying, and his terror of leaving the world so soon. His vision blurred, but he did not need sight to see the crowd of Uruks that picked up the hobbits, still screaming, and carried them off, ignoring the fallen man. Oh, and how they twisted with fear and regret! Regret that they could not save their comrade; regret that they were too small, regret that they had ever come! And yet they still flourished with life, kicking and screaming, and trying to get away.

Boromir remained where he was. Before him, tall, victorious, and leering, stood the terrible Uruk-hai. And again, as if savoring the touch and moment, he put another arrow in his bow, slowly. He was relishing the moment. Boromir waited. He awaited his fate. It was acceptable. He had tried to take the Ring from Frodo, whom he had attacked and had sworn to protect. Death would only be too kind now. He would remain proud to the end. If only not on his knees, as if begging. But that must have been the plan of the Uruk long ago. He smiled maliciously. He bent his bow into a firing position.

The Uruk never shot that arrow, because Aragorn came leaping over the knoll, sword in hand, and yelling like a banshee. The Uruk was startled out of a delicious triumph and had only time to back up from the ferocious attack, shooting wildly as he tripped over a stump. Aragorn was on top of him at once, slashing with a terrible war cry. But the Uruk was smarter than all get out, and rolled away. Together they fought, both with terrible strength and ferocity. When Aragorn fell, he rolled underneath the Uruk, got out his knife and stabbed the Uruk in the thigh, up to the hilt. The Uruk roared in pain and threw the man to the side, wrenching out the knife. He threw it at Aragorn; the man raised his sword and slashed it to the side. Then the Uruk threw his shield, a terrible heavy thing with pointed ends. It pinned Aragorn by the throat to the tree. Aragorn managed to get himself free, but then the Uruk took him and started beating him, as man to man.

Aragorn felt terrible and almost defeated. But, grabbing his sword firmly, and calling upon Elbereth, he slashed downward. One of the Uruk's arms became dead meat. Aragorn slashed again, taking off the other arm. And then he impaled the Uruk on his sword. The Uruk looked down ("I've been bloody-fuckin' shishkabobbed!"). He saw the blood. His body was a torso on legs. And he was going to die. He leered at Aragorn, spitting in the man's face. And then he toppled backward, off of the sword, deadweight.

Aragorn was breathing heavily. He had really never met an Uruk, despite all that he had told Adelaide. Adelaide! Where was she? The man looked around. But there was no Adelaide anywhere. He ran this way and that, until he heard a terrible moan. Looking back, he saw Boromir, propped up next to a tree, and groaning in agony. The man was pierced with many arrows, and blood covered him. Aragorn crawled over to his fallen comrade.

"They took the little ones!" was Boromir's first and unselfish thought. Aragorn tried to look over the wounds, but Boromir grasped him. "Frodo. Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"And the Ring?"

"The Ring is no longer in our power."

"Then you did what I could not. Forgive me," said Boromir, his eyes darkening and his lips stained red with blood. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I have failed. And my city will fall…!"

"No," said Aragorn, understanding, perhaps, the greater and more victorious achievement of confession. " You have fought bravely, Boromir. You have won, my friend." Again, he tried to take the arrows out. But Boromir stopped him.

"Leave them! Aragorn, go to Minas Tirith. Save my city."

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I shall not let it fall," said Aragorn. Boromir smiled, and then clasped his sword to his chest.

'I would have followed you anywhere, my friend…my captain…and my king!"

"Farewell."

Aragorn bent over the man, but he was already dead. A sudden hush of tenderness and death stole over Aragorn, and he closed Boromir's eyes, and kissed his brow. "Be at Peace," he said. And then he turned. Legolas and Gimli had come up behind them. But there was still no sign of Adelaide. Aragorn gasped.

"Where has our little maiden gone to?"

Adelaide had not gone off in the direction of the horn. She had gone limping off in the direction of the boats. She knew where to find Frodo. She wanted to find him; she loved him, and wanted to tell him so. He needed to know it, so that he would go through his journey knowing and caressing it. They both knew it in their hearts; they expressed it to each other all the time...but she wanted him leaving on his journey with that thought in mind. Even in this last moment, if he chose to part, the pain and the humiliation would not hurt her so badly, for he would be far, far away. But the thought twisted her heart and rent her soul, and she held back threatening tears of anger and sorrow. Through the trees she limped, and although the pain was terrible, she managed to make it down to the beach. Frodo was standing there. He had been standing there for a long time, tears running down his cheeks and remembering a conversation he had had with Gandalf.

_I wish the Ring had never come to me._

_So do all who live to see such times, Frodo. But that is not for them to decide. All you have to do is to decide what to do with the time given to you_.

Frodo began to cry. He was terrified of leaving; terrified of leaving without his Adelaide and perhaps leaving her to her death or something worse. But then, a rustle in the trees caught his attention, and he turned in time to see Adelaide step out. She was covered in blood, but her white face betrayed signs of fear and love. Frodo could not look at her. He couldn't. What on earth was she thinking to do, ruin things for him? But she came and landed on her knees near him, and took hold of his arm.

"Thought you'd leave without a good-bye, huh?"

"Adelaide, Adelaide...go back, Adelaide, don't do this to me..."

"Do what? Do what for God's sake, Frodo?" Adelaide shook him. "Am I hurting you by saying goodbye? Or are you the kind of guy that likes 'farewell'? For God's sake, I don't want you to go away without me saying at least that!"

"Adelaide, let me go!"

"I _am_ letting you go. Why the hell should I hold you back?" She needed to encourage him, not pull him down. "I want you to go. You have to. But you sure as hell are not going to forget me. Look, please, I'll give you my—wait, Haldir took my hankie." She reached into her bosom and took out her locket. Inside was the picture of herself. She cut a lock of her hair off, curled it up, and put it into the locket. Pressing it shut, she wrapped it around Frodo's wrist.

"There," she said. "A maiden's favor for her knight. They used to do that, you know. Now get lost and don't come back until Sauron's pushing up daisies six feet underground, okay?"

Frodo's lip trembled, and he felt that he could hold nothing back any more.

Sobbing, he threw himself at Adelaide, wrapping his arms around her and tangling his hands into her soft hair, his fingers threading through each strand and snaring them tightly so she could not get away. His body pressed urgently against hers, his breathing fast and shallow, his movements hurried and desperate. But he loved her. And he was going to let her know it.

"I love you," he said passionately. "I've loved you since I met you; I was so in love with you I wanted to make love to you whenever I saw you, and you made me hungry for you whenever you obeyed me or fought with me, and I still love you now, for all your faults and failings, and I think I'll die if I don't take you now, here, right here on the sand...I don't care who's watching..."

Adelaide felt the hobbit bending her body backwards, so quick she felt as if her spine would snap. This love he felt for her was so deep; it was beyond anything else she'd experienced. His lips were like fire, scorching her lips, eyebrows, cheek, forehead, any other part of exposed flesh he could get at...he bit her throat ravenously and pressed her down to the ground, wriggling himself between her thighs and pulsating there urgently. Never before had he wanted her so badly, especially when he felt her legs wrap feverishly around him, and he heard her panting his name, her breast heaving in the excitement and warm fury of his ravishing attack. He moved to her heated core, knowing that only four layers separated their union, and she felt his hardness pushing insistently at her. It felt good, it felt right, and it felt so beautiful that she could not, for the life of her, imagine this sort of thing with anyone else. Frodo was the one she loved, had always loved, even though they hadn't always gotten along. And Frodo? He'd loved her, loved her with a passion that was aflame now, more so than it had ever been, and she was burning up inside that love, wanting to be at the very core and heart of it, fanned by his caresses, his kisses, his embraces.

"Holy shit, I think we're setting the fucking beach on fire! You sure I can't come with you?"

"No, you mustn't. You cannot. If you were to do so, what would I do? I would be too tempted to stop, to quit, to throw everything away and run far off with you. No, my sweet lass, I must do this on my own. This is my burden. You must understand this."

"I do, I do. It's just that..." Adelaide's eyes filled with tears, childish tears that she could not stop. "It'll be so long, Frodo. And I want...I want to be with you."

He chuckled. "I know you do. And it seems so silly for you to know, and I to be in complete darkness. I wish my path were clearer."

"To me it is." Adelaide wiped her tears and smiled shyly. "Please don't give me up," she begged. "Let me be with you constantly, in thought and heart, Frodo. As you're ever in mine. I don't want to believe I could belong to anyone else. I know…I know that everything will be alright. Leave the future alone. Fuck the future and live now. Love me now. Love me always."

He kissed her again. "I feel as though I could do anything now, even if they asked me to carry It to the moon and beyond, if only I may return to you! But I worry about you, and I fear for you...I always have. What if death separated us?"

"Then I'll have no choice," Adelaide smiled through her tears. "I'll have to go on. But for now, let's be as we were. I love you. I don't want you to give me up."

He shook his head. "I never wanted to, either. I was just afraid…cowardly, cowardly! It may mean so much heartbreak, but as long as we have each other, I wouldn't mind."

"Nor would I."She was starting to cry herself.

"My lass, will you do something else for me?"

"Sure."

"I want you to be a strong girl. I want you to get better and better every day, learning about Middle Earth and its peoples, customs, and traditions, and I want you to do everything under the sun. If you want to ride into battle, do it. If you want to learn how to wear armor like a man, do it! I want you to grow up more and more each day, alright? I will feel better in my heart if I knew you were doing that for me."

Adelaide's eyes were warm as she considered the little hobbit. "I'd be crazy to say no," she chuckled. "I'd be completely insane to refuse you that."

Frodo smiled and cupped her face in his little palm. Adelaide was everything in his life. She was the mother he had lost. She was the girl he had longed to court for so long. She was the wife he was longing to have. She was the sister he never had. The cousin. The niece. The aunt. Everything feminine in his life was balled up into Adelaide. He couldn't lose her now, not when he knew her so well and so wonderfully…no one else knew her likes and loves…

Frodo pressed up against her, tangled his hands into her hair and kissed her as hard as he could, seeking her mouth out with his tongue and letting it glide everywhere on her face and throat. She could feel his throat against hers, as she arched back and let it run over hers. His curls underneath her chin, tickling and rubbing unmercifully. His slim nose, nuzzling her ear, her eye, her own nose, her lips and cheek…his eyelashes fluttering over her skin, exciting her to the point of pain, and then drawing back to watch her pant his name. Kept her steady with one hand—one hand!—as he kissed her on the lips one last time. There was something beautiful about kissing her; the way she made him feel so special, and the way he delighted to make her feel special. Pressed her down to the ground, and wriggled his way between her legs. Throbbed there, while his hands searched everywhere on her body, nearly tearing away the clothing.

Finally, he pushed her away.

"I will never forget you," he said huskily. "I promise, Adelaide. And I will come back to you. You have my word."

"I'll pray for you," she grinned through her tears. "God will watch over you, like He does me. He always has, I suppose, and now He'll take it from here with you. Since I can't always be with you...God will have to be. May the wind be light beneath your wings and the sun be at your back..."

"And may your eries receive you at the journey's end," Frodo finished the quote. "My goodness, Adelaide."

"Told you I had the book practically memorized." She kissed his brow, turned, and ran from him back into the forest. She ran as far as she could go before she stopped near a tree. All around her, she was sickened by what she saw: dead Uruks, bloody ground, and the smell of death. Her head was in a whirl. And now, Frodo was leaving her…

She threw a fit.

Not just a jump-up-and-down-screaming fit, but a beat-the-trees-kick-the-dead-Uruk-screaming-yelling-cursing-and-sobbing fit. And then she fell to her knees in a great big sob. She poured out her tears as if they had been a downpour of rain, and sat with her knees hunched up to her chin. Frodo was gone. He was leaving for Mordor. She loved him, but oh! She wished that she could go too. But her place was not by him now. Not now. Aragorn needed her. And so did the others.

Sam, meanwhile (I guess you've been wondering where he went to) had discovered that Frodo was missing, and, guessing his master's mind better than anyone, was running back to the boats faster than all get out. He had just come in as Adelaide had burst back into the forest. Frodo himself had taken one of the boats and was paddling towards the Eastern Shore.

"Mr. Frodo! Come back!"

"No, Sam," whispered Frodo. He could not endanger any of his friends. He turned. Sam had begun to do a very foolish thing; he was walking straight into the River, trying to follow his master! Frodo cried out in alarm.

"Go back Sam! I'm going to Mordor!"

"Of course you are! And I'm coming with you!"

Adelaide would have said that it was that kind of beautiful strength that built character, but Sam was a fat hobbit, and hobbits, I might have mentioned, do not like water, and cannot swim. Especially really fat hobbits.

"Sam!" screamed Frodo as his friend floundered towards him feebly. "You can't swim!"

Sam gave a gurgle, and went under.

"SAM!" screamed Frodo. He swung the boat around as fast as he could, and paddled quickly to where his friend had gone down. He reached down, felt flesh, and jerked quickly, hauling Sam inside the boat. Up Sam came, wet as a water-rat and looking scared.

"I made a promise Mr. Frodo! 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee!' And I don't mean to! I don't mean to!" Sam began to cry. Frodo felt the tears come upon him as well. His best friend was risking all, and would apparently not leave. He wished Adelaide could have done so. But no, Sam didn't understand, whereas Adelaide had. Sam was the better one to take. And he was a friend. Frodo sniffed. He could not go alone, whatever else may happen.

"Oh Sam!" he cried, and hugged his friend. For a while, they remained in an embrace. Then Frodo gripped his friend's shoulders, business-like. "Come on," he said. "We've got a long way ahead of us."

A hand touched Adelaide's shoulder, and she looked up, in time to see Aragorn's haggard face. He looked as if he had had a tussle with a mountain lion. But his face was grave, and Adelaide knew that the news could not possibly be good.

"Boromir is dead."

The words hit Adelaide hard. For the first time, she realized just what the man had meant to her, as a father might have meant to his daughter. He had been her protector, her father, and her friend, despite all that he had done to Frodo. He really hadn't been a bad man. Just misguided and erred in his ways. But this news brought on a fresh flood of tears, and Aragorn just let her cry. Crying was a good thing, sometimes, and even the strongest of men needed it.

"Frodo has left, hasn't he?" Aragorn asked her.

"Yes," she sniffed. "I said good-bye."

"You are not following him?"

"I can't." Adelaide wiped her eyes and then her nose. Nothing more needed to be said about the issue, seeing as Aragorn knew all about it anyway.

Aragorn kissed her brow. "Poor, brave thing," he said tenderly. Then he rose, and took Adelaide by the hand. She rose as well, and they came over to where Boromir lay. Adelaide was sickened by all the arrows in him. But they arranged him tenderly in a boat, with his sword upon his broad chest, and sent him over the falls of Rauros of the Anduin. Each of them sang a song in memory of him: Aragorn took the North, Legolas the West, Gimli the South, and…well, no one spoke of the East, but Adelaide sang a simple little requiem she'd learned at school. Then Legolas started to push one of the boats into the river.

"Hurry," he said. "Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern Shore!"

"Huh?" Adelaide was startled. "Frodo and Sam? How'd you know?"

"His yelling could easily be heard, but you did not hear it. He went along with Frodo."

Adelaide just grinned.

Aragorn stopped Legolas, and the Elf cocked his head. "You mean not to follow them?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Frodo has chosen his own path now," he said. "Not even we can say otherwise."

"Let's face it," said Gimli. "The Fellowship has failed."

Adelaide couldn't stand it. "Another Boromir," she said to Gimli. "He was such a fucked-up, negative loser! For Pete's Sake, can't we think rationally about all this? We can't give up now. We just can't. We haven't failed."

"What if we remain true to each other?" asked Aragorn. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torture and death."

"Huh?" Adelaide was puzzled. Aragorn bound up his wound and sheathed his knife. "Leave everything that can be spared behind," he ordered. "We travel light. Now. Let's hunt some orc."

Adelaide could not contain herself, and neither could Gimli. Legolas smiled. Gimli let out a rumbling, "YEAHHHH!"

And the four of them ran off into the forest, determined to track and find Merry and Pippin.

A little ways off, Frodo and Sam had climbed over large shingles of rocks, and now faced the terrible mountain of Doom, more than a thousand miles away. Dark clouds, ominous and lurking, surrounded the mountain, and lightening prevailed near it. All seemed light where Frodo and his servant stood, and for a moment, Frodo was struck with a memory of his beautiful Adelaide, the girl that he would have given his life for. She would have given anything to see this, he thought to himself. The Mountain of Doom. Totally cool. He smiled, as he heard himself thinking of her strange and coarse, but ever-jovial tongue. Resolute, he stared out.

"Mordor," he said softly. Sam came up behind him, carrying a few things that he felt they needed. "I hope the others find a safer road."

"Strider'll look after them," said Sam.

"I wonder if we'll ever see them again," said Frodo. Meaning, he knew, Adelaide.

"We may, Mr. Frodo. We may," said Sam, knowing full well that his master meant Adelaide. Frodo turned. He knew that Sam knew that he had meant Adelaide. He smiled.

"Sam," he said. "I'm glad you're with me."

And together, the hobbits started off towards that terrible road, not knowing their End.

_**End of The Fellowship**_


End file.
